Perfume
by robyn redhead
Summary: Hal, Tom and Annie entrust the help of werewolf Florence to find out exactly what Cutler's up to and why he's so interested in werewolves. But Cutler can be charming, and soon Florence is struggling to remember exactly whose side she's on. Possible Cutler/OC.
1. Florence's Prequel

Sometimes life deals some horrible cards. But keep hold of them, because one day you may be thanking your unlucky hand.

At least I, Florence Hackleford, found this the case.

I was born into the world on an exceptionally hot summer's day, or, at least, my mother would always claim it was exceptionally hot, perhaps the hottest day that Portsmouth had ever known, but I remember my father would always comment at this point that he did not recall that particular day being any hotter than any other day in mid-July. But, whether it was hot or not, it was my destiny to be born on that day, to two parents who would love and cherish their child, yet swear that they would never have any more.

Thomas and Susan Hackleford were perhaps two of the most well liked people to ever wander into our society, perhaps because of their great ability to integrate themselves within any social group that they may have found themselves in. They were respectable, well-to-do members of society, working in respectable jobs and leading respectable lives. They were always neat and ordered, fit and healthy, fresh and clean. Everybody liked them, and they liked everybody. And I, Florence Hackleford their daughter, was almost none of the above. Except being clean; I had enough decency to appear at least that. I was an only child, and although I found I was never subject to those negative traits to which only children often suffer from such as selfishness or spoiltness, there _was_ a sort of inevitable social awkwardness that hung around me and followed me forever more.

My parents, worried that I would not follow in their footsteps of being everybody's best friend, had futilely attempted to squash this social awkwardness out of me by putting me through years of torment in extra-curricular clubs. But their attempts were in vain. In sports, I was assumed good, as I had quite a height that I inherited from my father, yet my feeble upper body strength and general athletic ability meant that my skills in sport could only be used so far. I was usually placed in a goal somewhere as a sort of barrier. In theatre, my tallness was again recognised, this time as an ideal at instantly becoming a tree or a lamppost, while other aspiring actors and actresses of six or seven years old became the dragons or the princesses. Music was something that it could be argued that I excelled somewhat in. The piano teacher commented on my admirable long fingers and (slightly freakish) ability to stretch to even the most adventurous of chords, which I think meant that I was good.

But alas! The moment I was proclaimed of good enough quality to play in a group, when I was but ten years old, the whole thing fell to pieces as I was ridiculed by the other members of the youth band for my inability to function in the social situation. Looking back at my past self with an older, somewhat wiser, perspective, I can clearly see the mistakes in which I made as child, and can think of hundreds of amendments that I could have made to my behaviour that would have had more positive results. But unfortunately, it is not likely to be possible in my lifetime to return to the past and amend my previous faux-pas. But then again, as my mother once told me; anything is possible.

When I was fourteen years old, and had applied myself with a small amount of success in the world of secondary school; excelling at my studies, but failing slightly at making friends and instead retreating further into the unsocial hovel that was my destiny, my parents decided that I had earned a treat, and we went on a back packing trip to the Lake District. If my parents had sat me down and asked me what I would consider a treat to myself, I was quite certain that a back packing trip to the Lake District would not have been it. Nevertheless, I had been brought up to do always what my parents (or other senior/member of authority in my company) told me to do, hence the continuing of the various torturous childhood activities, and so I threw on some walking boots and a rucksack and off we went.

When we were just three days into the trip, and my feet felt as though they were irrecoverably ruined with blisters, and tempers between my parents regarding map-reading were running high, we found ourselves and our tent pitched in a secluded spot, with the opening to a dense wood on our left, and the drop of a hill that we had climbed earlier in the day on our right. Night had fallen not long ago, and the dying embers of our campfire still glowed slightly as I sat, alone, outside the tent; my parents having retired to their sleeping bags following a further map-related feud. But the main source of light was not coming from the flickering fire anymore, but instead from the moon, that beamed above us, bright. It must have been a full moon, or thereabouts, for I was quite sure that I had never seen a moon quite so big and round before. While I was transfixed with the concurrent beauty and pity of nature, something much more unnatural, or perhaps supernatural, was taking place in the woods behind me.

The sounds of ripping canvas and my parents' screams, though sounds that would come to haunt me forever, came far too late for me to do anything other than to whip around just in time to see a large, no a _massive_, grey wolf standing amidst the remains of the tent and my parents. I was perhaps lucky that this horrific scene did not remain in my vision long, for the wolf swiped at me with a massive paw, and pain erupted across my left shoulder where it made contacts, and I fell, giddy with pain and shock and the most horrific grief, over the hilltop and tumbled down into irrepressible darkness.

x-x-x

When I was next aware of anything at all, the rich smell of earth was filling my nostrils, and my whole body was groaning in pain. At first, I felt disorientated, as though I had had a strange dream, and another strange dream was currently occurring. But my senses were far too awake for this not to be reality. I felt somewhat paralysed; rooted to the spot and unable to move. I opened my eyes.

It was perhaps not yet dawn, for light only stole around in patches in the sky. My view was obscured largely by the thick soil I seemed to be lying in, and I judged from the angle of the image that my body was twisted into an unnatural form. I tried to move, whereupon a shooting sensation rushed down my left arm, and the rest of my body moaned in protest, but I eventually returned myself to a recognisable seating position. Looking down at my shoulder, to where the majority of the pain was coming from, I saw that my shirt sleeve was completely covered in dry, crusty blood. My own. Peeling back the shirt, which was not difficult owing to the large number of rips in the arm, I lay eyes upon four large, deep scratches; starting where my neck met my shoulder and finishing somewhere between my shoulder and my elbow. They were a horrific, almost purple colour, and blood was still seeping through in some places. I stared, horrified, until the memory of the previous night's events came flooding back to me, and there was no words to describe my horror.

x-x-x

I ran up the hill as fast as my protesting, aching body would allow, gasping and sobbing as one does in such a situation. The scene that reached me at the top was one I hope nobody will ever have to witness in their lifetime. Blood, ripped tent canvas, hideous remains of my parents' bodies, and a sleeping naked man, a stranger, lying in the midst of it all.

The man stirred as I approached, desperately trying to retain the urge to vomit everywhere. On the man's back were four scars, large and purple still, and I was just puzzling over the similarities between them and my scratches from the wolf, and why on earth a naked man had appeared in this scene of desolation, when the man awoke with a start, and whipped around to face me. He had very short grey hair, but was not especially old, perhaps my father's age or thereabouts. His eyes were a pale green, and his face covered in a stubble that put my father's clean shaven face to shame. At the sight of me, his eyes widened in horror, and he leapt to his feet and began racing back into the woods from which the wolf must have come from.

Desperate for answers, for somebody to talk to, and not wanting the man to go the same way as my parents, I chased after him.

"Wait!" I called. "WAIT! It's not safe in here, there's a...wolf or something!"

But the man didn't seem to hear me or care what I was saying. He was running away as if there were no tomorrow. Have previously commented on my lack of athletic ability, despite the circumstances, I was impressed at my sudden ability to be able to keep up the chase. The pains in my body seemed to have vanished, and I was only left with the stinging of the scratches in my shoulder.

"Wait, _stop!"_ I tried again desperately.

To my great relief, the man had reached a clearing in the wood that seemed to have no escape. He was trapped, and I was grateful for it.

"Please," I gasped, when I, too, had reached the clearing. "I just want to talk to you. And warn you. There's a wolf or something in these woods, it...it _killed_ my parents. Or rather, it brutally savaged them, whichever you want to pick..."

The man wasn't really listening. He was twitching about, looking for a gap in the thick density of trees that surrounded us. He looked severely troubled.

"And why were you there anyway?" I asked. "Did you see the wolf? I need as much evidence as I can if I'm going to get any justice for my parents..."

The man suddenly looked at me properly for the first time. His eyes fell to my shoulder, where the dried red blood stood out against the white of the shirt. This seemed to trigger some sort of reaction. He swooped down on me suddenly, gripping my elbows.

"Look," he said, his voice low and rasping. "You have to get out of here. You have to get as far away from here as possible-

"What? What do you _mean?_ I can't leave now! My parents, you..."

"How old are you?" the man asked abruptly, letting go of my elbows but not moving away.

"Fourteen," I answered.

This seemed to distress the man further. He sat down on a nearby tree stump, looking horrified at his own hands.

"Fourteen," he repeated in no more than a whisper.

I felt uneasy. "Look," I said. "I really think we ought to go and find some help. The wolf could be here at any moment-

I was cut off by the man standing up and gripping me roughly once more.

"Don't you _understand_?" he rasped in my face. "_I_ am the wolf. It was _me._"

His eyes were popping about madly in his face and he looked quite barmy.

"But..."

The man let go, and turned around to show me the scars on his back. "I am a werewolf." The words were spoken slowly and defiantly, with emphasis upon each word. But it still took me several minutes before I could register what had been said.

"Y-You're a-a werewolf?" I stammered. "But things like that don't exist! They're not real, they _can't_ be real."

"Oh they're real alright," said the man, darkly. "Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, the lot of them. The supernatural world and the natural world don't often collide, but when they do, this happens."

I looked at the ground. Was this man actually completely barmy? Did he honestly believe that vampires and werewolves actually existed? And was he so mad that he thought _he_ actually was one?

"But..." I started. "My parents...?"

The man shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not responsible for my actions when I'm changed, but that doesn't mean that I was not entirely to blame."

This was even more disturbing. This man actually _thought_ that he had killed my parents, when I had _seen_ the vicious wolf commit the act.

"But," said the man. "The real problem's not your parents."

"It's not?"

"No. You see, they're dead now, terrible tragic and all, but they don't have to go back into society like you do. Because, you see, I'm afraid that _you're_ the biggest problem around here."

"M-Me?" How could _I_ be the biggest problem? My parents had been literally destroyed, and here was a lunatic man speaking to me of werewolves and ghosts! I hardly seemed much of a problem with reflection.

"Yes, you." The man pointed to my left shoulder, where the scratches still stung and the arm still ached. "You see, you're a werewolf now too."

"W-What?" My heart felt as though it had dropped into my stomach.

"I'm sorry," said the man. "Really, I am. I would never wish this life upon anybody."

"But, they're not _real_. Werewolves aren't _real_."

"Believe me, they are. And come the next full moon, you'll be believing it yourself."

The man now extended a hand to me. "I'm sorry we had to meet in this way and part in an equal manner." He said. "My name is Finn O'Toole."

I shook his hand, numb with shock. "Florence Hackleford." I said, in no more than a whisper.

Finn O'Toole smiled. "Never stay in the same place for too long," he said, as the one piece of advice, before turning and disappearing through the gap in the trees, and leaving me quite alone.

x-x-x

That was five years ago, and the memory of which still haunts me to this day. My memories of the events following that day are not so clear in my mind, but I can still recall having to eat rats to survive and spending most nights alone in a forest somewhere. The most vivid memory would be the pain of the transformations, that came consistently at every full moon; spasms erupting through my body, and the fear when I woke the next day that I had savaged an entire village. But this never happened, perhaps because I lived in reclusive spots, steering well clear from humans. Although Finn O'Toole had warned me never to stay in the same place for very long, my sentimentalities that formed attachments to particular areas meant that I was not quite able to move about as much as I perhaps should have.

I often thought about Finn O'Toole and where he was and what he was doing. Though I did not blame him entirely for my parents' death, there was a sort of blind hatred that arises in such a situation. I didn't hate him really, but sometimes I thought I did. He had ruined my life entirely. At least, that's how I viewed it in the beginning, but then I realised that perhaps my life wasn't _ruined_, it was just changed; now running down a different path, a different destiny. The horrible cards had been dealt, but it was now down to what I was going to _do_ with these horrible cards.

When I was about eighteen, and had been living the life of, there was no other word for it, a beast in the wilderness, for four years, I decided that it was time I tried to integrate myself into society and live alongside the human race once more. This was easier said than done, for the years in various woods had left me looking wild and quite inhuman. I found myself into the town of Southampton, and when I first caught sight of a reflective surface, I was quite repulsed by the beast staring back at me. I hurriedly threw the cloak I used for warmth over my head, and begged for a room in a local hotel. There, it took me a while to get used to the human ways that I had become quite unaccustomed to over the years. The streaming water of the shower frightened me, and the ticking of the clock drove me insane.

But, eventually, I began to feel vaguely normal, and was surprised when I next looked in the mirror to see a shadow of my former self. Of course, five years in the wild is bound to make certain changes to one's appearance that are not likely to be recovered by a simple shower. My hair, for instance, was so long and ragged, that actual knots had formed at the bottom. I took a pair of scissors to it, and cut it to my shoulders. My body was covered in various cuts and bruises, and there were of course the scars on my left shoulder. But all in all, I thought I could at least pass for an everyday citizen and not be mistaken for Frankenstein's monster.

But then a larger problem arose. I realised that I did not have any money. Not a penny to my name. The hotel would want payment for the room, I needed to eat, and I needed clothing. It was then that I thought perhaps I should just give up entirely, and return to my feral life, but my reflection in the mirror urged me not to slip back into my old habits. I was born into the human world, and in the human world I must now live.

In the dead of night, I wrapped the bed blanket around me like some sort of cloak, and stole from the hotel bedroom from the bathroom window, which was located conveniently only a few levels from the ground. My life as a werewolf had increased my strength and athletic ability, which was something that now came in handy as I lowered myself from the window ledge and jumped to the ground. When I was far enough away from the hotel to think that they would not come after me demanding their twenty pounds for the room, I settled myself down in a doorway, feeling that I would have to try and sort things out for good in the morning.

x-x-x

In the morning I wandered the streets, eating a piece of bread the baker's wife had given me in return for the baker pushing me out of his doorway and telling about "dirty vagrants". I don't know how he could call me dirty, when I had showered the previous evening. If he wanted to see dirty, I thought, he should have seen me twenty four hours ago.

The world, it seemed, had not changed drastically in five years of my abscence; people were still driving around in cars and wearing jeans. Well except me; I was wearing a bed blanket. I checked the streets of shops, gaining strange looks for my attire, until I found what I was looking for. A large department store, emblazoned with advertisements for 'this season's skinny jeans' and smart phones, whatever they were. I went inside. The smells were so familiar to me, that I was overcome with such a case of nostalgia I had to grip a passing man in a suit in order to remain upright. This earned me an exclamation and look of disgust, but I didn't care. One sniff of the scene inside the shop returned me immediately to the disastrous shopping trips with my parents, and the years of trying on school uniform that had been cut short...I went and had a little weep by the women's wedding hats to dispel my sudden rush of emotion. When I was finished, I returned once more to the task in hand.

I had never stolen anything in my life before, having been brought up to be moral and good, and being besides far too scared of the consequences of getting caught. But there's fear and morality, and then there's sheer desperation. I felt slightly nauseous as I shoved a shirt and some jeans into the folds of my blanket, and even more so as I made my way to the exit, which seemed an awful lot further than it had on the way over to the women's clothes.

I found myself laughing, giddy with hysterical relief, as I changed into proper clothes for the first time in years in a nearby public toilet. A builder wolf-whistled at me as I made my way to my next point of focus; the bank; but I think this was less to do with the idea that I had finally reached a state of attraction with my looks, and more to do with the fact that I had clumsily buttoned my shirt and it was consequently hanging open at the front. At the bank, I presented myself as Florence Smith (this was a new identity I was trying to establish for myself), the student, and after a couple of questions that I improvised the answers to (the years of drama class were finally paying off), I was allowed to take out a student loan. Money secured, I returned once more to the department store to repent for my earlier sins by buying some further items of clothing and some new shoes. I tried to over-pay for them, by way of apology for the earlier theft, but the cashier called me back before I could leave to give me my change. I ate a hearty meal in a local cafe, and then set about finding a hotel in which to settle down in.

This was how I spent the majority of my existence over that next year. Various lies tumbled off my lips to keep my economic position stable, and it was surprising how easily I fell back into the way of life as functioning human being. I moved around; London, Cornwall, Bristol, always finding some secluded wood for my transformations each month. As spring rolled into summer, and summer back into autumn, I found myself on Barry Island in Wales. Which I suppose is where the real story truly starts.


	2. Chapter One

Light rain had begun to fall as I made my way through the park, on my back to the hotel. Everywhere, people were heading home as the light faded all around; heading back to warm houses for a home-cooked dinner...My stomach rumbled. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, having been far too busy attempting to secure lodgings for the next month. My current residence in the hotel was causing too much trouble, and I had already been threatened to be thrown out twice for unpaid costs. The stress of visiting various people and telling various lies had really eaten into my day...Oh god, I shouldn't have used the word 'eaten'. My stomach gave another rumble, just as the rain began to grow heavier. I pulled the hood of my jumper up over my head, adjusted my backpack, and quickened my pace.

Not long after leaving the park, a well-lit building attracted me in the dim street. As I got further, I realised it was a cafe. I walked straight past it, but then my stomach moaned and groaned in such protest that I doubled back. The brightly lit cafe was deserted except for the two men who, judging from their red and white striped aprons, obviously worked there. Hunger now reaching breaking point; I strode straight up to the counted to observe the menu. I could easily have eaten everything on it, but I decided I should retain at least a little self-decency, and asked for a cheeseburger.

"That's £1.50 please," said one of the men, who was young, perhaps twenty, and oddly familiar in some way. I smiled at him and rummaged around in my pockets for the appropriate money. I handed the coins to the other man, who I had just enough time to observe was older than the other and with very dark eyes and hair, before our hands touched in the exchange of money, and I felt as though an electric current had passed through my fingers and up my arm.

I withdrew my hand and looked up at the man sharply, whereupon I found a wooden stake shoved into my jumper by the younger man.

"Tom," said the dark haired one. "She's not a vampire. Put away the stake."

I was mildly offended. Of course I wasn't a bloody _vampire_-

But then I realised what he had said, and the fact that he had just mentioned vampires. But the older man was not finished speaking;

"No. She's a werewolf."

I bolted from the cafe.

My athletic ability, though slightly improved on my former youth, was not enough to carry me further than the closed Oxfam shop at the end of the darkened street before the two men from the cafe caught up with me.

"It's alrigh'!" said the younger man, who had been called 'Tom'. "I'm a werewolf too!" he was grinning.

I was panting too much to show my real shock, so I settled on a drawn out "Oh" sound, while inside I was wondering how on earth this was possible.

"Yeah!" said Tom, looking insanely happy. "And Hal's a vampire!"

Tom gestured to the other man; 'Hal', who looked livid at being introduced in such a way. Okay, _what_ was going on? Had I managed to stumble into the only supernatural cafe in Wales? In the whole world?

I had regained some of my breath back, though leant against the wall, an action I hoped made me look laid back and calm, but in reality probably made me look like somebody who is incredibly unfit.

"Do you...do you have any ghosts hidden under those aprons of yours?" I asked, trying to be jovial but my voice sounded oddly high pitched.

"Nope," said Tom. "She's at home with the baby-

"Tom." Hal cut across him. "Please have some sense for once."

"I brought a stake with me," offered Tom. Hal ignored him.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked me, leaning in.

"I'm nobody." I mumbled.

"Alright," said Hal, straightening up. "What do you want then?"

I felt slightly persecuted. "Well I _wanted_ a cheeseburger," I said. "But that plan seems to have fallen through-

"Look," cut in Hal. "What are you doing here?"

"I happen to _live_ here." I said, glaring. The perpetual questioning was starting to grate on my patience, and an odd sort of smell was making me feel quite peculiar. Rain began to fall once more, and there was a low rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance.

"Look," said Tom, the first of us to speak for a few moments. "Why don't we all go home? Annie'll be expecting us Hal, and..." he trailed off, looking at me.

"Oh please," I said, wiping the rain from my face. "Don't let me keep you. I've got people to get back to; friends, family..."

"You live alone, don't you." It was a statement more than a question.

"Yes." I said, in a small voice.

"Come and live with us!" said Tom, waving his arms about and making Hal take a massive step to the right to avoid being staked. This reminded me of something.

"You're a vampire?" I questioned.

"Yes." There was something begrudging in his tone.

"Yeah, can't you smell him?" asked Tom, grinning. "Hal stinks, he does."

So _that_ was that unusual smell. It was vampire.

"I've...I've never met a vampire before. Or another werewolf, for that matter."

I didn't feel like talking about my parents or Finn O'Toole with two perfect strangers, whether they were supernatural or not.

Another rumble of thunder.

"Look," said Hal. "Let's go back. You..." he looked at me. "You can come with us and...And well, we can talk better there."

Because I was now soaked through to the skin, so hungry I could cry and now in the presence of two people who I could probably talk to better than anybody I had ever met before, I accepted the offer.

x-x-x

"This is...nice."

I had found myself in what seemed to be a home decor nightmare.

"It's rented," said Hal, by way of explanation.

"Annie!" Tom called. "Annie!"

"Where have you two been?"

The very sudden appearance of a young woman in about her early twenties, with dark brown curls, was enough to make me shriek with shock and grip the closest thing to me. This happened to be Hal's arm, but one disgusted look from him was enough to make me drop it at once.

"We've brought home a friend," announced Tom, unnecessarily. The woman, who I noted must be Annie, the 'ghost', turned to look at me. I smiled somewhat awkwardly.

"Yes," said Annie, turning back to Tom. "Yes, I can see that. Look, I sent you out to bring home some money, not some sort of disaster. Oh, no offence." She added to me.

I held up my hand to show that no offence had been taken, but Annie's eyes widened in realisation.

"Oh my god," she said. "You...you can _see_ me."

I flicked my eyes towards Tom, frowning slightly. "Shouldn't I be able to?" I asked, questioningly.

"She's a werewolf," said Hal, sighing.

"O-Oh, right," said Annie. "Well," she appeared to be sorting out her thoughts in her head. "I'm Annie," she said eventually, holding out a hand and smiling brightly.

I returned the smile and shook the hand, feeling awfully formal. "I'm Florence."

"And I see you've met Hal," said Annie, into the following silence. "And Tom, there." She laughed awkwardly.

"My dad was called Tom," I mused, aloud. This statement set us all back for another couple of minute's silence.

When the silence had become almost unbearable, Hal took action. "Right," he said. "I'm going upstairs. It's time for my press ups, and I need to change. I _really_ need to change."

He pushed past us, and strode up the staircase. When the sounds of Hal's footsteps faded away, they were replaced with the sounds of a baby crying.

"You have a baby?" I asked, to nobody in particular.

"Oh, yes," said Annie. "Eve. I had these friends, they were werewolves too, and they had a baby, that's Eve, but then they both died and so we've been left looking after her. Oh, and she also happens to be the saviour and destroyer of all vampires. Ha, funny old world, isn't it?"

I attempted to digest this speech with little success. "The baby...your friends' baby...she's going to destroy all of the vampires? But how?"

"Oh, it's all to do with a prophecy thing," said Annie, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "Just some prophecy that was laid down centuries ago, and recorded on human skin. We've got it over there." She pointed to a table on the other side of the room.

"Wonderful," I said, whole heartedly wishing I had never entered that stupid cafe. The baby wailed again upstairs.

Annie beamed apologetically. "I'd better go and see what she wants."

She disappeared up the stairs.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?" Tom's voice broke the ensuing silence.

"Um," I began. "Look, I'm not so sure I should stay, I mean...I've got things to be getting on with... _you've_ got things to be getting on with..." I trailed off; trying hard not to look at Tom's disappointed face.

"Oh," he said. "Oh right."

I was experiencing all manner of emotion that I had never experienced before; somebody else, another human being (or werewolf at least) actually _wanted_ my company. There was an odd sort of pain in my chest.

"I've hardly ever met other werewolves before," said Tom, looking at his trainers. "Except for Nina and George I suppose..."

I didn't really know who or what Tom was talking about, but the pain in my chest caused by my emotions seemed to be growing as I observed Tom's fallen face.

"Well..." I said. "Perhaps I could stay for a while..."

Tom's face lit up. "Great," he said. "I'll show you around."

The house; or 'Honolulu Heights' as Tom affectionately referred to it as, was as much of a home decor nightmare as I had first suspected. On our tour of the house, I observed many a guest bedroom, each with lurid wallpaper and carpets, yet each dim and uninhabited. Through one door, we intruded upon Hal doing press ups on his floor.

"He works out, our Hal does," Tom explained as Hal leapt to his feet.

"I do not _work out,_" said Hal through slightly gritted teeth. "This is how I manage my _condition_."

"Yeah, yeah," said Tom in a sing-song way as he turned to leave. "Whatever."

"Hal has a condition?" I asked as we made our way down a corridor.

"Well, yeah," said Tom, as though it were obvious. "He's a vampire isn't he?"

"I suppose. But that's not like a...a _condition_. It's just...well, it's just a way of life."

Tom snorted. "Try telling Hal that."

We approached a door at the end of the corridor. Inside was a slightly plainer guest bedroom, with a deep green carpet and walls of turquoise.

"You can stay here," said Tom. "If you want to." He added, hurriedly.

"I'd love to," I said, in a voice that was perhaps brighter than the walls.

x-x-x

I lay awake in the bed that night, my body trying to adjust to the change of scene, and eyes hurting from the glare of the wallpaper. I had a strange mixture of emotion at present. I could hardly believe that, just a few hours ago, I had been contemplating how I was going to pay my hotel bills, and now, here I was, in a house with a ghost and a vampire, not to mention another werewolf. It occurred to me that it was perhaps all a dream, for it certainly felt like nothing that would happen in reality. But then, I never thought creatures like werewolves even _existed_ in anything other than dreams, so my concept of reality was different to what it used to be.

But even so, there was such a massive coincidence, that I couldn't help pinching myself repeatedly on the arm to check that I was not dreaming. Then I remembered something that I had learned in science at school about you not being able to feel you pinching yourself anyway, so I got up and dropped one of my boots on my toes instead. This hurt. A lot. But at least it confirmed that I was not dreaming.

So what was I going to do?

I couldn't _stay_ here. It wasn't right to inflict my company upon these people, and besides, I had never been the social type anyway; always functioning better on my own. But, then again, Tom _had_ wanted me to stay, and Hal had invited me back here in the first place. Annie, too, had been polite and friendly over the dinner we had eaten earlier. Though, perhaps this had just been all out of sympathy. I was a 'lone wolf', for want of a better phrase, after all, and maybe Hal and Tom had just felt sorry for me. I turned over in the bed, brain alive with thoughts.

Did I _want _to stay? Was staying even an option?

Someone was moving around in one of the neighbouring rooms. Why did I suddenly feel oddly comforted at the presence of other beings like me in such close proximity? It was odd; now that I _thought_ about it, I did want to stay. Though I had never craved the company of others before, I now felt that if I should leave and never see Tom or Hal or Annie again, I should be quite miserable. I sighed. Honestly, why was life suddenly so complicated?


	3. Chapter Two

I had been at Honolulu Heights for three days when I decided that I had quite outstayed my welcome, and should leave imminently. When I came down to breakfast on the fourth morning, I entered upon a scene that would set my departure back for a while. I wasn't even that sure that I _wanted_ to leave that much; it was more a sense that I was trespassing, and should return to my own business. I always functioned better alone, after all. But it saddened my nonetheless when I went downstairs, already rehearsing goodbye's in my head.

At the breakfast table, some sort of problem seemed to have arisen following from a conversation that was already in full flow; Tom was complaining loudly and baby Eve wailed loudly in the background.

"We've run out of Cheerios as well!" cried Tom. "What am I supposed to eat now?"

"We've got bigger problems that that," said Hal, as Eve's cries subdued. "I want to what Cutler's up to."

There was a pause.

"Why don't you just ask him?" This was Tom's suggestion.

Hal sighed in obvious frustration. "Yes, that would work; 'Hello Cutler, do you mind telling me your plans so we can plot to stop them?' Yes, he's bound to answer _that_."

"Who's Cutler?" I asked, taking a seat at the table, feeling like my departure could wait a while. I was often partial to curiosity.

"A vampire," said Annie. "A vampire that Tom met, and now Hal thinks he might want..._something_ to do with werewolves. Only we don't know what."

"Yeah," said Tom, confirming the situation. "And Hal thinks he might be dangerous, but he won't just go and ask him what's going on-

"What we _need_," interrupted Hal. "is a spy. Somebody to go undercover to Cutler and find out what his plans are with the werewolves."

"I'll go," offered Tom immediately.

"No," snapped Hal. "Cutler's already seen _you_ and knows that you're a werewolf. He'd hardly going to spill his plans to you is he?" Hal was evidently distressed that his mind was unable to come up with an immediate solution.

"And," interjected Annie. "You're not a girl."

"Hang on," Hal looked at her in surprise. "Why do they need to be a girl?"

Annie sighed, her despair evident. "Because," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This Mr Cutler is a guy, right? So he's much more likely to spill to a girl, especially if he likes her."

Hal did not look convinced. "I don't think you understand how Cutler's mind works."

"Trust me," said Annie. "I understand exactly how any males' mind works. We need a young, attractive female with a great personality. I'd go myself except-except-

"Except you're dead?" offered Tom.

"Yes," said Annie, stiffly. "Yes, thank you Tom."

There was a few moments silent contemplation before Tom looked at me, and then looked at me again as though seeing me for the first time.

"Hey!" he cried. "_You're_ a girl!"

"Well noted," I said, drily.

"_You_ could go and visit Mr Cutler and find out what his plans are!"

This was _not_ the way things were supposed to be going. I was supposed to be saying a sorrowful yet hasty farewell and getting out of there. Not getting sucked into some sort of scheme. However, although I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with it, I _was_ slightly offended that I had not been considered before.

"You're forgetting," I said. "That although I may be a girl, which took you an unnaturally long time to acknowledge, might I add, I also happen to be a werewolf. Mr Cutler is not likely to tell me his plans to me anymore than he is likely to tell them to _you_. He'll smell that I'm a werewolf the moment we came into contact, just like Hal did."

"But Cutler's not an old one," put in Annie, though I had no idea what an 'old one' was. "Perhaps his sense of smell won't be as strong as Hal's."

She turned to confirm this with Hal, but Hal looked as though he had just had an idea.

"Yes, yes," he muttered. "There _is_ a way."

"There _is?_" I cried in surprise.

"Yes," said Hal. "Perfume."

I exchanged a look with Annie to confirm that I was not the only one who didn't have a clue what the vampire was on about. She shrugged at me.

"What are you on about?" asked Tom, bluntly.

"It might not work," continued Hal, more to himself. "It would be very dangerous, and the only chance that it might work is because of our lucky circumstances..."

"If, in a month or two, you feel like telling us what the hell you're talking about," Annie snapped.

"Perfume," said Hal, looking up at us, eyes brightening in excitement. "I reckon that Cutler won't be able to smell a werewolf if they're wearing very strong perfume."

Annie did not look convinced. "You mean that werewolves could hide from vampires just by wearing a fancy perfume?"

Hal shook his head, still grinning. "Not from vampires," he said. "Just from Cutler."

"Hang on," said Annie. "What sort of perfume are we talking about here?"

"I'd recommend Chanel No.19," said Hal without hesitation. "Cutler was always more sensitive to that than anything else."

"Wait, _what?_" said Annie. "You _know_ this Cutler vampire? How?"

"_Knew_ him," corrected Hal, hurriedly, obviously wishing he hadn't let this slip. "But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that he won't know that Florence is a werewolf, I promise."

"But if you know Mr Cutler," said Tom. "Then why can't _you_ just go and speak to him. He's bound to trust another vampire-

"I don't think that's a good idea," interrupted Hal, shortly.

"But you could-

"Just leave it, Tom," sighed Annie, rolling her eyes slightly. "Vampires have always got some politics going on. Best not to get involved."

All three of them took this time to turn and look at me expectantly. I, meanwhile, was fearfully regretting ever having entering that fateful cafe. I mean, I'd left my life in the wilderness in order to pursue a more _human_ existence, and yet it had just left me dealing in a more inhuman world than before. But I could hardly announce my departure there and then, could I? Annie, Tom and Hal had extended their arms of generosity; I would be a monster indeed to thrust it back at them. I could do this one piece of detective work as a...well, as a way of saying thank you for the hospitality. And _then_, I could make my departure and continue striving for the life of being human.

I shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "Well," I said. "I suppose I could try-

"Brilliant," cut in Annie. "You can go out with Tom right now and buy this Chanel No.42, or whatever it is."

"No.19" corrected Hal.

"Right," said Tom, enthusiastically. "Let's go then!"

x-x-x

"Which one is it?" hissed Tom as we stood together scrutinising a shelf of varying perfumes.

"_I_ don't know," I answered, irritably. The glare from the shop lights was hurting my eyes, and it was taking longer than I had thought it would to find the perfume. "I haven't the faintest clue when it comes to perfume."

"But you're a girl..."

"Oh, so you've noticed that now, have you?" I shot back, waspishly.

"Look," said Tom. "I didn't mean anything by that, I just-

"Can I help you?"

A smartly dressed, immaculately made up sales assistant had interrupted our whispered argument.

"Hello," said Tom, waving. The assistant looked at him as though he were quite mad.

"Yes, hello," I said, quickly. "We're looking for a particular perfume, perhaps you could help?"

"Of course," answered the woman, smiling, though I noticed her teeth were slightly gritted. "Is it a gift?"

"Yep," answered Tom, before I could stop him. "For her." He pointed at me, to which I answered with a glare.

"Lovely."

While we were paying for the extortionate Chanel No.19, Tom began drumming an irritating beat upon the cash desk.

"Tom," I muttered. "Stop that." The drumming ceased.

"Sorry," apologised Tom. "I just-

"So how long have you two been together then?" the very effeminate cashier who was gift wrapping the perfume (Tom's idea) piped up, grinning.

"Oh!" I cried, taking an unnecessarily large step away from Tom. "It's not...he's...we're not together."

"Alright," said the cashier, smoothly, handing the perfume over. "Of course not."

He gave a horrible wink to Tom as we were leaving, and Tom's reply of another wave earned him a whack over the head with the shopping bag once we were outside.


	4. Chapter Three

I wasn't sure if I had ever felt less like myself than I did as I examined my reflection in the mirror the next day. The only analogy I could think of was when I, at the young age of eight, participated in a ballet recital (another of my parents' ideas) and was stuffed, quite literally, into a pink tutu and been subject to the torture that is French plaits in my wild hair. Having neither a passion for the dance, nor the pink dress, I hadn't felt at all at home in that costume. Of course, my reflection at present did not reveal myself to be in a tutu, but I was quite certain that I had even felt more at home living a savage life in the woods, than dressed in a neat blouse and skirt and looking smarter than I could ever remember looking.

Annie had looked distastefully at my ripped jeans and t shirt, and even more so when I couldn't see what the problem was.

"Look," she said. "You're posing as a _journalist_. You want to make a good first impression. Think of it like a job interview!" She beamed.

I sighed heavily. Hal had come up with the idea that our best course of action would be for me to pretend to be a journalist, interested in the rising number of what seemed to be wolf attacks in Britain.

"But I'm _not_ a journalist," I said. "And I'm _not_ interested in the rising number of what seems to be wolf attacks in Britain."

"That," said Hal. "Is the beauty of acting."

I recounted the tales of my disastrous theatre debuts as trees and lampposts. But Hal didn't seem to think this was a problem.

"Here," he send, handing me what felt like a tree's worth of paper. "I've scribed some fake articles that you've 'written'. You can show them to Cutler." Hal grinned.

I held up the first piece of paper. "'Mysterious Attack on Homeless Beggar in Woods' by Florence Smith." I read aloud.

The next one was just the same; 'Schoolboy, nine, Savagely Ripped apart by Unknown Beast'.

"Look," I said. "Don't you think that Cutler will, well, _know_ that these aren't real?"

"Why?" said Hal, looking offended. "I've made them very authentic. I even put in a few grammatical errors to make them seem more realistic."

Bypassing this slightly offensive comment, I continued. "But, if Cutler is so interested in werewolves, won't he have kept some sort of records of attacks like this? And know that these are fake?"

"I reckon Mr Cutler'll be so glad to have someone on his side, he won't care," said Tom, speaking up for the first time.

Hal looked at him in surprise. "That was a very intelligent comment, Tom,"

"You don't need to sound so surprised and all," said Tom. "When I met Mr Cutler, he was very keen for us to be friends. I think he just wants some company, and will be glad to have Florence."

"And the intelligence is gone," sighed Hal. "But there _is_ some truth in what Tom said," Hal turned back to me and Annie. "Cutler'll be so pleased that someone else is as interested in the werewolves as he is, that I doubt he'll even read these articles."

Slight dubious, I continued to flick through the pieces of the paper. At the back, there was one that had an authenticity about it; "Family doesn't press charges against vicious attacker". The skim read the article, which told me that parents in Nottingham had dropped their charges against a man who had brutally attacked their child while on holiday. According the report, the man had had 'wolfish' characteristics, and had even been referred to as a 'real life werewolf'.

"What's this?" I asked Hal. "Why do I want this?"

"Look at the name of the solicitor who defended the case."

I looked. "N. Cutler." I read aloud.

"Exactly!" said Hal.

"I don't get it," said Tom.

Hal rolled his eyes. "Cutler," he said. "_Cutler_ defended this case. Don't you see? This is what links Cutler to the werewolves to you as a journalist. Don't you think it would be a bit weird if you just turned up, randomly expecting to find a werewolf enthusiast at the solicitor's? No, this way, it shows you've done so background research, and have come across Cutler's name. Now you have a plausible excuse to visit him."

"Oh, right," I said, slightly baffled by Hal's rushed speech, though finding bizarre admiration for him having thought of _everything_.

It was perhaps this admiration that led me to agree to continue with what was now feeling like a very confusing plan.

And so, I found myself heading downstairs looking and feeling as though I were going to a job interview. Annie beamed when she saw me.

"You look _perfect,_" she said.

"I look _ridiculous,_" I corrected.

"Right," said Hal, cutting straight to the point. "You've got an appointment at Cutler's solicitor's office at half past two. Remember who you are, and what you're doing."

"Right," I said. "Except...I'm lying about who I am, and not actually doing what I say I'm going to do."

"Fine," said Hal. "Remember who you're supposed to be, and what _they're_ supposed to be doing."

"Got it."

"Here you go," said Tom, brandishing a large, wooden stake in my face. I recoiled.

"Tom!" gasped Annie. "I _told_ you to get rid of all of your stakes. _All_ of them."

"It's just in case!" insisted Tom, cradling the stake almost affectionately. "Now if Mr Cutler goes all crazy on Florence, she can just whip this one out and-

Tom made a violent gesture with the stake against the wall.

I stared, horrified as Tom passed me the stake. "Will that...will that be..._necessary?_"

"Of course not," said Hal, shortly. "Tom, get rid of that infernal stake, please."

I gave the piece of wood back to Tom, wondering if I ought to go through with this, what now seemed like _crazy_, plan after all. But Hal was already hurrying me over to the front door, spraying the perfume over every inch of me.

"_Stop_," I protested, choking. "I don't want to reek of the stuff!"

"It has to be strong," Hal insisted, taking a great breath and exhaling slowly. "Takes me back..." he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Ok, please no reminiscing," said Annie, quickly. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Practically positive," said Hal.

"R-Right..." I said, worried once again that the plan was slightly crazy. _Practically_ positive that it would work? I guess that was the best I was going to get.

"And remember," Hal said, suddenly. "No letting on that you know that Cutler is, well, one of us. He wouldn't like it if he thought you were on to him. If ever anything seems a bit obvious, I don't know, goes strange over some blood or something, just act a bit stupid and as if you haven't noticed anything strange, got it?"

I nodded. Acting a bit stupid. That shouldn't be too difficult.

"Here," said Tom, and I was worried I was about to find the stake back in my face, but it was just a mobile phone. "Take this, you might need it."

"Thanks, Tom," I said, pocketing the device.

I headed out the door, whereupon my worries were confirmed and Tom hastily stuffed the wooden stake into my hand when Annie and Hal weren't looking. "Just in case," he said.

I had reached the bottom of the stairs before Hal called back out of the front door;

"Remember; no crosses!"

x-x-x

The solicitor's offices were located about a twenty minute walk away from Honolulu Heights. I had left with plenty of time to allow for the likely occurrence that I would get lost at some point on the way, but not quite enough time to allow for walking in the completely the wrong direction for fifteen minutes, and having to double back and perform the rest of the journey in a sort of jog-shuffle in order to get there anytime near two thirty.

I arrived, panting slightly, in a very clean, very ordered reception, where the faint tapping of a computer keyboard and hum of an electric fan could be heard through the silence. I strode up to the receptionist, wishing I could make a little less noise; even the soft padding of my shoes on the shiny floor sounded loud. The receptionist appeared to be the source of the tapping keyboard. She didn't look up from her screen as I approached. There was nothing wrong with this, though I found it hard to believe that she had not heard me coming through the reception, but perhaps she just wanted to finish her sentence or something. But when she still didn't look up after five minutes and two clearings of my throat, I decided she was just being plain rude.

"Excuse _me_," I said, huffing. This got a reaction. There was a pause in the typing, and the receptionist turned to look me up and down with her piercing blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Well, _yes_, actually," I said, fumbling about with my pieces of paper. "I'm here to see Mr Cutler. I've got an appointment."

The receptionist smirked and looked back to her computer. "What's your name?" she drawled.

"Smith," I said. "Florence Smith."

"Florence Smith..." the receptionist repeated in a mutter, using her mouse to scroll on her computer screen. "You do realise, that you're twenty minutes late?"

"_Yes_," I said. I could clearly tell the time. "I...I got lost."

"Well," said the receptionist. "Mr Cutler's office is on the fourth floor. I guess you won't get lost on your way upstairs?"

Scowling, I thanked the receptionist; as it seemed like the right thing to do, even though the only thing I had to thank her for was making me feel like an idiot, and made my way to the staircase.

Upstairs, I approached a door with a plaque on it that read; 'N. Cutler.' It was just a normal door; nothing at all extraordinary about it, yet I felt a strange wariness of it as I knocked upon the surface.

"Come in" came the reply from within. The voice of a vampire. No, no. I mustn't think like that, I must act perfectly normal and composed. And trustworthy. That was the entire point of my being here, after all. I entered.

The smell of vampire hit me immediately in the room. It was stronger than Hal's, I thought, but this could have been merely because I had gotten used to Hal and his scent. I glanced around the room, which displayed nothing out of the ordinary for a solicitor's office, and then I laid eyes upon the infamous vampire.

I was taken aback when I saw Cutler for the first time. Well, perhaps 'taken aback' is slightly too strong a phrase, but he was certainly not the person I had been expecting to see. For some reason, I had envisaged him older, perhaps more stereotypically 'evil' looking, certainly not the reality; a young, smart solicitor. When we made eye contact, he grinned; a crazy grin that made me feel simultaneously at ease and on edge.

"Florence Smith!" he said. "Come in, come in. Sit down!"

I edged closer into the room, wishing I could breathe air that didn't smell so much like vampires. I sat down, awkwardly, in the chair on the other side of Cutler's desk. He also sat down, crossed his hands on his desk, and looked at me expectantly.

"So," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I...I'm..." Oh god, I couldn't get any words out. My mouth seemed suddenly very dry. I tried very hard to remember all the information that Hal had spoken at me. "I'm a journalist," I said, at last. "And I'm interested in the rising number of what seem to be wolf attacks in Britain."

By rote, I reeled off what Hal had told me. Cutler's expression had changed at my mention of wolves. The grin faded, and he frowned.

"Well," he said. "Why have you come to see me?" He seemed suddenly defensive. "_I_ don't know anything. I don't know why you'd have thought _I'd_ have anything to do with...Perhaps you should leave..." He looked towards the door, agitated. I knew I had to do something, or the whole thing would end, and all the hard work of Hal and the others undone.

"Look," I said, sounding confident for the first time since entering the solicitors. "I found this." I fiddled with the many pieces of paper in my bag, and drew out the real article. I pushed it across the desk towards Cutler. "I found this, and it's got your name on it."

Cutler had looked down at the piece of paper, mouth slightly ajar. He didn't say anything.

"I've got loads of these," I said, nodding triumphantly. "I've written some as well. I'm a journalist."

"Yeah," said Cutler, vaguely, looking up at me. "Yeah, you said."

"It seems that there is a rising number of what seem to be wolf attacks in Britain," I said, speaking very quickly for fear that Cutler would see through my act. "And I'm growing suspicious about what's causing them and I've been researching and stuff for ages and ages. You're just somebody I was interested in talking to."

Cutler peered at me, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk. Then he stopped suddenly, and pointed at me as though I was a school pupil who had just got the answer correct after many times of getting it wrong.

"You're right," he said. "You're absolutely right. You should be interested in talking to me, you know why?"

"N-No?" I said, rather taken aback at his response.

"How would you feel," said Cutler. "If I put the idea to you," he leaned closer and motioned for me to do the same. "Of _werewolves_."

At this, he sniffed suddenly, and I felt my whole body tense. Oh god, this was it. The perfume had failed me. I was already mentally planning the best course of action to try and retrieve Tom's stake from my bag. But it seemed that Hal had been right. Cutler merely sniffed again, rubbed his nose, and then looked back at me, bright eyed and expectant.

"Oh," I said, when I realised I wasn't about to be attacked. How should I react to his words? Should I be shocked? How could I pretend to be shocked at the existence of something that I had _been_ for five years of my life? I decided I should try a different tactic. "Really?" I whispered, dramatically. "You see, I've had my suspicions that it might be something like this but..." I trailed off.

Cutler sat back in his chair, triumphant. "I know, I know," he said. "Now, I don't know anything for sure, _but_, I reckon, if we work together, you know, _combine our strengths,_ we could really get something. You said you'd written some articles before?"

I stared blankly. Then remembered. "Oh! Yes, yes." I brought out the paper from my bag and gave some to Cutler.

He looked down at them, but his eyes didn't even move over the pages before he turned them for the next one.

"Yes, yes," he muttered. He held up the bundle of articles. "These are brilliant."

"Oh, thank you?" I said, hesitantly.

"Listen, Florence Smith. I think we ought to take this further. Work together. What do you say?"

"Well..." I hadn't been expecting this. Hal hadn't briefed me on this sort of situation.

"Look," said Cutler, leaning forward once more, animated somewhat. "We could do _so much_. _You_ could do so much. You could be a _history maker_!"

Something in this phrase caught me off guard, and I found myself suddenly compelled to accept his offer.

Cutler sat back, shaking his head and grinning in some sort of trance. "This is so perfect."

"So," he said, snapping back. "If I could take your number, and then I can give you a call if I find anything and vice versa."

I smiled, blankly. Largely because Cutler's words had just literally washed right over my head. I had been distracted by a thought of Cutler's previous words. About being a _history maker_, and why they had had such an effect upon me. I was also trying desperately to see what sort of 'evil plan' as Hal called it, could stem from Cutler's ideas so far. I couldn't fathom a thing. But, with everything else that I had been thinking of, I hadn't heard another word that Cutler had said.

He waved his own mobile phone at me, looking expectant.

"Oh, right," I said, cottoning on and hurriedly rummaging in my pocket for the phone that Tom had given me. "Yeah. Ummm..."

I looked at the piece of technology in front of me. Oh god, where were the _buttons_? When my parents had owned a mobile phone it had been about the size of the remote control, with easy to navigate buttons. This device certainly didn't. I dithered about for a second, before Cutler sighed and put out his own hand. Silently, I placed the phone in it, blushing. Now I seemed like some sort of technophobe.

After just a matter of seconds, the phone was back in my hand. "There," said Cutler, standing up as though business were finished. "I've taken your number and put mine in yours in case you every want to give me a call." He grinned wildly.

"Great," I said, meekly. I stood up, knees shaking slightly.

Cutler placed a hand on my shoulder to steer me from the room. I tensed; terrified that he would somehow be able to feel the werewolf inside me. Cutler evidently felt me tense, for he withdrew his hand and held it up apologetically. _Great, _I thought._ Now he thinks I'm a touchaphobe as well as a technophobe. Mind you, he's a vampire...can hardly talk..._

Cutler was speaking again. "So I'll be seeing you again?" I could smell the vampire strongly again now we were closer. It was overpowering once more.

"No. I mean, yes. Yes you will." I mumbled, not really sure what it was that I was saying.

Cutler raised his eyebrows slightly, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. He grinned once more. "Fantastic."


	5. Chapter Four

I was in the bathroom a few days later; pondering my reflection and wondering whether a new hair cut would add to my 'journalist' look, when something out of the window caught my eye. I drew back the lace curtain, and to my utmost surprise and horror, I saw _Cutler_ right outside the house. I watched, glued to the spot with shock, as he paced backwards and forwards by the gate. He paused, looked up at the door, and then took out his mobile phone and began tapping away at it.

My own phone began to ring loudly in my pocket, making me jump out of my skin. I slumped to the floor, out of sight of the window, and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I whispered, still in hiding-and-spying mode.

"Florence? Hi, it's me. Cutler."

Oh god. It was _Cutler_ who was calling me. From _outside the house_. The game was up for sure. I had been discovered!

"Why are you whispering?" Cutler was speaking again, his voice sounding very loud down the phone line.

"Oh," I hastily upped my volume. "No reason, I just-

Cutler cut across me. "Listen," he said. "I need you to come and meet me. I think there's something I want to show you." He sounded eager, excited.

"Oh?" I said, in a high pitched, nervous voice, not sharing his enthusiasm at all. "That's wonderful. Let me-

I was stopped mid sentence _again_. "Look," said Cutler. "I'm at this place, it's like an old bed and breakfast...it's called Honolulu Heights and it's near the market in Forham Street. Do you think you can find it?"

Find it? I was inside it for goodness sake!

"Yes, yes! Of course!" I squeaked in the same, high voice.

"Great. See you soon."

The phone went dead.

I stood up, shaking. Looking out of the window, I saw that Cutler was still stood outside, now leant casually against the wall with his back to the house, mobile phone in hand.

"Florence!" Tom's voice calling up the stairs made me jump.

I flew down the stairs. "Shh!" I hissed, pulling Tom away from the window where he was stood.

"Ain't that Mr Cutler stood outside?"

"Yes," I said, hurriedly. "Now, I've got to go outside and meet Cutler."

"Go on then," said Tom, absentmindedly, peering through the curtains once more.

"No!" I said, pulling him away once more. "You don't understand. Cutler can't know that I _live_ here, or...that I know _you_...or...anything. Okay? Stay out of sight of the window as well. Now, is there a back way out of here?"

Tom showed me out into the back yard, and I had _nearly_ performed the slightly dangerous scale of the wall into the lane on the other side, when I remembered about the perfume. Tom ran back inside to fetch it, and I sprayed myself liberally.

Now safely in the back lane, I hurried along to the front of the street, where I was spotted by Cutler, still hovering around. When he saw me, there wasn't even so much as a 'Hello', before I was pulled behind a parked car and out of sight of the house. Only then did Cutler acknowledge me; with a devious grin.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Cutler indicated that I should lower my voice, and when _he_ spoke, it was in a dramatic whisper.

"I think I've found one."

"Found one what?" I asked, puzzled.

Cutler seemed to refrain from rolling his eyes-just. "One _werewolf,_" he said.

I went cold.

"W-what?"

Cutler nodded. "I know. Mad isn't it? Look..."

He took out a pair of binoculars, and indicated that I should take a look at the house. I looked through the binoculars with a sort of feigned interest. I saw Tom, still peeking through the curtains despite my request that he should stay out of sight. I sighed, and handed the binoculars back to Cutler.

"What makes you think that he's a werewolf?" I enquired, casually.

It had been a casual question, but Cutler's face told me that I had caught him off guard. I was quite sure that, had he not been dead, his face would have coloured. He looked uncomfortable and shift. I guessed he didn't have a Hal to research convincing stories for him like I did.

"I've got my, uh, reasons," he said eventually, choosing his words with care. "I'll explain them later...no time now. Hey, can you smell that?"

Cutler stopped speaking, and sniffed the air. I followed suit. In truth, I couldn't smell anything except his bloody vampire scent and the perfume-_the perfume!_ He could smell it! I just knew Hal's damn plan wouldn't work. I should never have listened to him, I should never have agreed to this stupid, stupid plan, I should-

I stopped. Cutler was back to peeping through the binoculars; interest in scents gone. I breathed a sigh of relief; I was safe. For now.

For fear of looking suspicious, I stayed with Cutler, peeking through at Tom for a whole _hour._ Cutler kept whispering things like "Ooh, look at that," every time that Tom did something perfectly ordinary like scratch his head. I pretended to sound interested, while actually trying to work out exactly what the hell Cutler was trying to do. Sure, it was relatively obvious that he was interested in werewolves, but _why?_ It seemed as though he was trying to prove the existence of werewolves. But that, I decided, was ridiculous. Exposing the werewolves would surely only cause equal problems for the vampires. He seemed to want to convince _me_ that werewolves were real, which, while it was an ironic idea, was also, virtually, pointless.

Hal had explained to me about the Old Ones, and their likely return. Him and Annie had, almost proudly, shown me the pieces of human skin that contained the prophecy. I had been warned of the danger that the returning Old Ones would bring, but I couldn't fit Cutler's plan into anything whatsoever. Hal was _convinced_ that Cutler was up to something to do with the Old Ones, but I hadn't really discovered anything that corroborated with that idea yet. I would just have to dig deeper.

"Come on," Cutler's voice interrupted my internal discussion.

We, in a manner that bordered on comical, crawled along the line of parked cars, and only rose again when we were out of sight of the window of Honolulu Heights.

"So," said Cutler, dramatically. "What do you think?" He looked at me, grinning expectantly.

"Oh! Well, I, uhh..." I didn't really know what to say. I decided to be challenging. "I don't really see how you can expect me to believe that that man is a werewolf."

Cutler's face fell slightly.

"I mean," I continued. "What evidence have you that he's anything other than an innocent, ordinary man?"

Cutler's face went through a series of emotions all in a matter of seconds. First, he looked taken aback, then slightly angry, but then he finally grinned.

"Spoken like a true journalist," he said, in what sounded like admiration. "Always looking for evidence before you can make a judgement. No, no. I think you're absolutely right. Which is _why_," he paused and looked at me intently. "I'd like to invite you back to my place. You know, look at my evidence and all that. I think you've got the right to form an opinion by yourself. I'll just give you the tools, if you know what I mean."

I slowly digested what Cutler had just said. He'd invited me back to his place...to look at some evidence of Tom being a werewolf? Did I really want to 'find out' that Tom was a werewolf? Though I couldn't really see what harm it would cause. Unless...oh god, what if Cutler wanted to drink my blood? What if he'd been luring me in this whole time, just to take a bite at my neck in the end? Some of my panic evidently showed on my face, for Cutler looked at me, puzzled, and said, "What's the matter?"

I hastily re-arranged my features, quickly deciding that I had better just say 'Yes' and deal with the consequences later. "That would be great," I said, forcing a smile. "I'd love to see some of your stuff."

I decided too late that the word 'stuff' was probably a bit unprofessional and should thus be eliminated from my vocabulary, but Cutler didn't seem to notice.

"Brilliant," he said, eyes brightening. He took out his phone and casually began tapping away at it. "I'll pick you up, if you like," he said.

I agreed before I'd properly thought about the situation.

"Where do you live then?" Cutler asked. "I'll call round about seven?"

I panicked. How could I tell Cutler that I lived at Honolulu Heights; the place we had just been spying on? I would have to lie, of course, but without Hal and his heavily researched pseudo identities, I found it difficult.

"Oh!" I said, wishing my brain would work faster. "It's just...well, you see, I've...I've just moved house and...well, I, err...I don't even know the address..."

Cutler raised an eyebrow at me. "Shall I just meet you here?" he asked.

"Here?" I repeated, in a voice at least two octaves higher than usual. "Yes, ummm, here is fine."

"Alright," said Cutler, snapping away his phone. "I'll see you here at around seven then?"

"Can't wait," I said, lamely, when Cutler had strode away with a wave of his hand.

x-X-x

"You've got a _date?_ A date with _Cutler?_" Hal cried, incredulously.

"It is not a _date_," I said, for about the fifteenth time. "I'm merely going to his place to look at...some stuff."

Stuff. There was that word again.

"Is he buying you dinner?" Tom asked.

"No!" I cried, horrified.

"Then it's not a date," said Tom, simply. "The man always has to buy the girl dinner on a date."

"But he _is_ picking her up," put in Annie.

"Oh, yeah..."

"Look," I said, irritably. "It is _not_ a date, and to be perfectly honest, I'm thinking of cancelling anyway."

Annie looked shocked. "But _why_?"

"Yes," said Hal. "You can't cancel a date at such short notice; it's barbaric-

"IT IS _NOT_ A DATE!" I yelled. "Besides, aren't you worried Cutler will, oh, I don't know, _suck my blood?_"

There was a silence, during which Hal looked almost amused.

"Mr Cutler won't drink _your_ blood," said Tom. "Werewolf's blood's toxic to vampires, ain't it?"

I blinked at him. "_Really?_ Well I never heard that one before."

Hal nodded. "It's true," he said.

"So," I said, finding this revelation amusing. "If I ever wanted to defeat you, all I'd have to do would be to cut my hand or something?"

"If it touches their skin," said Tom. "It sort of stings them like acid. And if they _drink _it-

"_Any_way," said Hal, who had gone slightly whiter than usual. "All that you need to know is that Cutler won't drink your blood. Or, if he does, _you_ won't be the one needing to worry."

"Hmmm," I said. "I think I might bring one of Tom's stakes anyway..."

"_Tom!_" cried Annie. "I told you to get rid of _all_ of your stakes!"


	6. Chapter Five

At 6.30 (there was no way I wanted to risk Cutler seeing me come out of the front door of Honolulu Heights), I walked down the steps and onto the street to wait. Against Annie's wishes, I had packed a stake in my bag, along with the bottle of damn perfume just in case, though I was already reeking of the stuff. I tapped my foot against the pavement, understandably nervous. I didn't care what Hal and Tom had said; I was still sure that Cutler was going to try and drink my blood. After all, _he_ didn't know I was a werewolf, and by the time he'd sunk his teeth into my neck, it would be too late. For both of us.

A 6.50 (at which point I was very glad indeed I had chosen to be cautious about the time), a sleek, black car pulled up. My knowledge of cars was somewhat limited, in that I knew nothing at all of them, yet I could still feel myself being impressed by Cutler's choice of vehicle.

The window rolled down to reveal the vampire himself, who motioned for me to get in. I took a deep breath to calm myself, which only really results in the inhalation of Chanel No.19, before getting in.

"Hello," I said. Oh god; who said 'hello' as a greeting anymore? I should have said something more casual like 'hi' or 'hey'. But it was too late now.

"Alright?" said Cutler, as he waited just a millisecond after my seatbelt had clicked to pull the car away at an alarming speed.

Cutler drove with immense ease, it seemed. Although he was never quite still, his fidgeting indicated a boredom at the ease of driving, more than the stress of it; the tapping of a thumb on the steering wheel or the light fiddling with his collar. A few times he sniffed the air and rubbed his nose, and I wondered whether the sensitivity to perfume that Hal had mentioned was perhaps like an allergy. Was it then, that Cutler could smell the perfume, _instead_ of the wolf smell? Or did the perfume perhaps block his nose, so he could smell nothing at all. I made a mental note to ask Hal at some point.

After five minutes of driving in silence, I attempted to make conversation.

"You've got a nice car," I said, lamely, into the silence, fervently wishing I had something interesting to say.

"Hmm?" said Cutler, looking at me.

A sort of apology arose to my lips, for it occurred to me that I had perhaps disrupted his thoughts.

"The car," I said, _wishing_ I hadn't said anything at all. "It's...nice."

Cutler smiled vaguely, but didn't say anything, and I took note to never try and start conversations ever again. I contented myself with instead looking out of the window for the remainder of the journey.

The car drew up outside a perfectly ordinary looking townhouse; one of the many flat conversions in Barry. I almost laughed at myself when I realised I had been expecting something more reminiscent of Dracula's Castle. Cutler was either weirdly tidy for a man, or he had made some sort of attempt on my behalf. Maybe he'd had to clear up after his last victim...Ok, I really had to stop.

It felt strangely...homely, inside the flat, though I _was_ hit by the strong odour of vampire that I guess was clinging to every surface. But I felt far more at ease than I thought I would inside Cutler's home. Apart from the feeling that my blood was about to be drunk; a feeling that I could not shake.

Cutler was already striding about in a confident, business-like manner.

"Let me get you a drink..." he crossed to a kitchenette, where he opened a small fridge, though he almost immediately closed it again. But not before I had glimpsed several bottles of red liquid I was quite certain was human blood. I felt faintly sick.

Cutler turned to look at me, quickly checking to see if I had noticed anything unusual, and I saw one of those rare looks of apprehension on his face. As though he was worried he had blown his cover.

"It's ok," I said, quickly. "I'm not thirsty."

Cutler grinned, looking relieved. "Ok," he said. "I'll take you out for one later, if you like."

I didn't have time to respond to this - was it an invitation? I wasn't sure – before Cutler had strode once more into the living room area, shrugging off his suit jacket and sitting down on the sofa.

"Now," he said, gesturing for me to do the same. "To see something _really_ interesting."

I sat down on the sofa, careful to put a safe distance between me and the vampire; still not one hundred percent sure that I wasn't about to be devoured. But my attempts were futile. Cutler had to lean over me to retrieve a slim laptop anyway, and when we were both settled once more, we were practically touching side by side.

Cutler fired up his computer, which was a lot more technologically advanced than the beast my family used to have in the study, with the massive monitor and chunky keyboard. Cutler's fingers moved with a swift deftness over the keys to hastily open up a window of internet explorer, but I still caught sight of what seemed to be a picture of a wolf as a desktop background.

"I've got something very interesting to show you," he said, typing a search into a website called 'Youtube'. "Or at least," he continued. "I hope you'll find it interesting."

After a few clicks, Cutler had opened up a video on the website.

It was a...a _werewolf_, transforming. Or...actually, it was _two_ werewolves, screaming and howling. I stared, transfixed with horror, as one of them came closer to the camera, and I recognised it as-

"Tom," I breathed.

"Hmm?" said Cutler, vaguely, whose eyes were also fixed to the video, but more in glee than in horror.

The video continued right up until both Tom and the other werewolf had transformed entirely into wolves, and then it cut out.

"So," said Cutler, moving the laptop away. "What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought I was going to be sick. I had never seen a werewolf transformation before; having only had them myself. I could never have imagined it to be so..._grotesque_. I knew it was a reasonably violent affair, for I had often awoken the day after a full moon to find myself covered in cuts and bruises, but I could still not imagine myself looking quite like _that_.

Cutler seemed to understand my long pause before answering. When he spoke again, it was much gentler than I had ever heard before.

"I know it's...a _lot_ to take in," he said. "But I'm guessing you recognised our friend from earlier?"

I was still too shocked to really say anything at all, so just nodded.

"Yeah..." said Cutler, examining his hands. "Tom McNair."

"How come you knew about all of this?" I asked, speaking for the first time for what felt like ages.

This, it seemed, Cutler had an answer for. "I got Tom McNair out of a sticky situation with the police a few weeks ago. I did some more...research, and found this." He gestured to the laptop.

"I see," I said numbly.

There was silence for a moment, until a loud beeping made me jump out of my skin.

"Sorry," said Cutler, taking out his beeping phone and tapping at it with his long fingers until it was silent.

"So," he said, running a hand through his hair. "How about that drink?"

x-x-x

I stammered protests the entire way into town; he didn't need to buy me a drink, it was late, I wasn't thirsty...I even went as far as to say I thought I'd left the oven on, but my these protests were ignored entirely, and Cutler pulled the car to a halt outside some sort of swanky looking bar. We walked in, and I realised that this was actually my first experiences of a bar. How strange that I should be sharing this moment with a vampire that I was supposed to be spying on. Well, I thought, there weren't many other nineteen year old girls who could say the same as that.

The bar was full of well-dressed people, and I felt very shabby indeed in my jeans. Thank god I could largely hide behind Cutler who, dressed in his suit, looked quite at home in this environment. He led me up to the bar.

"What would you like?" he asked.

I was completely stumped. I had no clue whatsoever when it came to drinks.

"Umm...just, uh, whatever," I said, in a manner that I hoped portrayed me to be easygoing, but actually probably just made me look indecisive and stupid. However, Cutler smiled, and ordered a drink I had never heard of before, though Cutler assured me it was the best. When the drinks were placed in front of us, I could see why Cutler favoured it; it was bright red in colour.

"It looks like blood," I said, without thinking. But Cutler didn't seem bothered by this statement.

"Let's be thankful it doesn't taste like blood as well!" he said, grinning.

Wow, I thought, he could be a convincing liar when he wanted to be. Perhaps all those years of practice. I wondered how long Cutler had been a vampire for; living this double life as a blood sucking creature one minute, and a well-respect solicitor the next. Hal had said that Cutler was a reasonably young vampire, but that could mean anything.

Cutler took out some money to pay for the drinks.

"Oh," I said. "You don't have to...I'll pay..."

The man at the bar winked at Cutler. "Come on love," he said to me. "The man's _got_ to pay on a date."

"It's not-

But Cutler had already shoved some money into the barman's hand and he had wandered away.

"Cheers," said Cutler, raising his glass. "I think today has been very...informative."

I nodded, touching his glass with my own.

I very much thought that this little rendezvous ought to be kept as short as possible, and so hastily glugged down half of my drink in one; the red liquid heating up my throat and my stomach as it slid down. The quicker I drank, I thought, the quicker I would be able to get out of there. But alas! No sooner had I drained the glass, did the barman bring another round over. I thought it would be rude to refuse this second drink, and by the third one, I didn't care.

I was feeling really most peculiar by this point, and suddenly thought of the ridiculousness of all this spying malarkey. I didn't want to live my life in a web of secrets and lies! The world would be a much better place if everyone was just honest and truthful. I should tell Cutler the truth immediately; I should tell him about my being a werewolf, about Tom and Hal, about spying on him...He would take it well, I thought. He would possibly be surprised at first, but then would probably congratulate me on my excellent disguise skills, and then we would laugh about the whole thing for a while...

Oh god, I was drunk. And I was in serious danger of letting the entire plan fall through entirely. With effort, I returned my brain to sobriety and excused myself to the bathroom. Once there, I splashed cold water on my face to try and regain some of my senses. I couldn't afford to be in anything other than a perfect state of mind when around Cutler. I had been _so_ _close_ to telling him everything. What an idiot I was! I splashed more freezing water on my face, more as a punishment than anything else, and stumbled back out into the bar.

I saw that Cutler was still where I left him, but he was now accompanied by several other people, one of whom he was having an agitated conversation with. When Cutler saw me coming over, he leapt from his seat, grabbed my elbow, and began escorting me to the exit. But our path was blocked by one of the men, and I was suddenly aware of a much sourer vampire scent than either Hal or Cutler's. Oh no. I couldn't be around a vampire. They would smell that I was a werewolf, they would-

"Leaving so soon, Cutler," the other vampire said. "Unless..." his eyes flickered towards me. "Having an evening snack, are we? Well you must remember to _share_ Cutler. Manners are everything."

"Piss off, Fergus," said Cutler, shortly.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your little friend, Cutler?" the vampire Cutler had called Fergus leaned closer, but then drew back, sniffing.

"You haven't been messing around with _werewolves_ again, have you Cutler? You bloody stink of those dogs!"

"Shut it," said Cutler. "Just because you can't see the attraction-

"_Attraction?_ Jesus Cutler, you talk as if you're in love with the bloody animals! I'm telling you, the Old Ones won't be interested in any pathetic plan you're brewing with those damn dogs."

Did they just mention the Old Ones? So Cutler _was_ preparing something that was to do with them. But..._what?_

Cutler's eyes flashed between me and Fergus significantly.

"Oh," said Fergus. "Oh have I blown your cover? Well, we know one easy way to fix that..."

The eyes of the vampire went black for just a millisecond before Cutler pushed him roughly away, with an immense force. So much so, in fact, that Fergus was taken aback, and fell to the floor. Cutler's face told me that he had perhaps not meant for quite that outcome from his actions, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Fergus looked up at Cutler from the floor; an expression of strong dislike on his face.

"Very well, _Cutler_," he said, nastily. "I'll let you have your own way with this one," he gestured towards me. "But don't think the Old Ones will be quite so easily won over as that when they arrive!"

x-x-x

Cutler was very quiet as we drove away from town, muttering something about "drunk bastards", but mentioning the incident with Fergus no more. Though we hadn't really spoken in the car previously, I hadn't really been aware of a physical feeling of silence. But now, this silence hang, almost heavy, in the small, confined space of the car.

I had acted ignorant of all strange goings on, and so Cutler now probably thought I was mad, stupid, drunk, or all three. I shuddered when I thought of Fergus's black eyes. I had never seen a vampire like that before and strangely found myself trying to imagine Cutler with those black eyes and fangs, but found it difficult to form that image in my head.

What an interesting outcome if would have been if Fergus actually _had_ drunk my blood; he would have died, and Cutler would have known that I was a werewolf. What an extraordinary turn of events _that_ would have been. But, thankfully, Fergus seemed to have believed that the scent of werewolf he had smelt had come from Cutler, and his interaction with werewolves. Did that mean that Cutler was renowned for his interest in werewolves? I wasn't sure. And _what_ had they been talking about with the Old Ones?

Before I could ponder this further, the car came to an abrupt halt outside Honolulu Heights. It was pitch black, and raindrops were pattering on the window, seeming loud with the engine now cut out.

"Look," said Cutler, speaking for the first time in ages. "Why don't I take you back to your place? It's raining and...I don't mind."

"No!" I cried. "No, there's no need. I don't know how to get there from here anyway." I added.

Cutler frowned. "If you don't know how to get there, how will you-

"In the car!" I cut in, quickly, in a manner that probably bordered on hysterical. "I don't know how to get there in the car. You see I...I only know how to reach it on foot...you know...have to go through someone's garden..."

"You have to go through someone's _garden_?"

"It's a...large garden. More of a park. Anyway, thank you for the drink and your interesting video. Goodnight!"

Before I could look any more like an idiot, I shot out of the car door. Only when I was sure that the car had driven out of sight did I climb the stairs to Honolulu Heights, push open the front door and step inside. It required every ounce of energy I had to drag myself up the stairs to my room where I slumped, fully clothed, on to the bed, and fell almost instantly asleep.


	7. Chapter Six

When I awoke the next morning, I felt bleary and incredibly thirsty. I rolled over, with the intention of perhaps fetching a pint of water, and my heart stopped dead.

A man was watching me. A man with dark hair, thick rimmed glasses, and a simpering smile.

"_Good_ morning," he said.

"_Ahhhh!_" My screams brought Tom bursting into my room, brandishing a stake, closely followed by Hal, who shouted; "Where's the emergency?"

They stopped when they saw the man.

"Oh," said Tom, lowering his stake. "It's just Kirby."

"I see you've met our new spectre," said Hal, darkly.

I thought 'met' was a bit of a friendly way to describe what had just happened. I was sure that my heart would never return to its normal rate.

"New...new spectre? He's a ghost?"

"Yep," said the stranger, giving me a thumbs up and smiling. "I'm Kirby. I've come to help Annie out with the baby. Judging from what I've seen so far, she needs all the help she can get!"

"Annie does a very_ good_ job, actually," I said, narrowing my eyes at Kirby, feeling resentful towards him for scaring the life out of me.

"Oh I know!" insisted Kirby. "Annie's great, isn't she? But babies can be _very_ hard work."

As if on cue, the sounds of Baby Eve wailing were heard. Kirby gave us all one last smug smile, and left the room. It took a few awkward moments before Tom and Hal obviously realised that they were stood in _my_ bedroom, and then they left too. I sighed, flopping back on to my pillow, hoping that the day would rapidly become less exciting; there was only so much I could handle. And it was a full moon soon too...

x-x-x

When I appeared downstairs, there was an awkward sort of strained silence. I squashed onto the sofa in between Tom and Kirby, as it was the only available seat in the room. Annie was rocking Eve in one armchair, and Hal occupied the other; largely concealed behind a newspaper. His face emerged from it very briefly before disappearing behind it again.

"How was that date with Mr Cutler last night then?" asked Tom, into the silence.

I was about to repeat the well-worn phrase that it had _not_ been a date, and explain about what I had discovered, but Kirby cut in before I could do so.

"Oooh! A _date_? Who's the lucky fella?" he gave a horrible wink at nobody in particular. "Is he a werewolf too? You little doggies do just seem to have a way of finding eachother!"

I scowled at being referred to as a 'doggy'.

"No," I said. "He is a vampire. But it _wasn't_ a date. It was more of a...business meeting."

Kirby gave a sort of knowing smile. "Of course it was," he said. "Rather exciting though really," he continued. "In a sort of..._dangerous_ way. Fraternising with an enemy."

"The _enemy_?"

"Oh, you know! _Vampires_."

"Vampires aren't our _enemies_," I pointed out. I gestured to the newspaper in the armchair. "Look at Hal and Tom."

Kirby said nothing, but continued with his knowing smile.

Hal's face emerged once again from behind the newspaper. "Did you find the evening...informative?"

I knew I should tell Hal about the werewolf video; just because _I _couldn't work out its significance, it didn't mean that Hal couldn't piece together what was going on. But from what I had seen of Kirby so far, I wasn't entirely sure that I should talk about such confidential things in front of him. I mean, who knew who he was, or who he was talking to? I decided I should get Hal alone, and tell him then.

"Yes," I said. "Yes I did. Hey, Hal, would you please...help me with that...that _thing_...upstairs..."

"Thing? What thing?" asked Tom, looking between me and Hal with a confused expression on his face.

Luckily, Hal had understood my intentions, and was already on his feet. "Of course," he said.

"Alright, what the bloody hell's going on with you two?" said Tom.

"Oh Tom," I said, moving towards the door. "You know the _thing_..."

As Hal and I were leaving the living room, I heard Kirby say;

"Fancy that. Off gallivanting around on dates with vampires while you're left to do _all_ the work. I don't know!"

Angrily, I stomped up the stairs with Hal to the landing, where I proceeded to explain about the video.

"But who posted the video in the first place?" asked Hal when I was done explaining. "Who _filmed_ it?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Cutler just said that he'd found it on the internet. But it was definitely Tom in the video. And whoever _did _post it seems to want to expose werewolves. Expose _us_."

"But why would anyone want to do _that_?" Hal voiced the question I'd been turning over in my own mind for a long time.

"It wouldn't be the Old Ones, would it?" I asked.

I could have sworn Hal flinched as I'd said 'Old Ones', but when he spoke, his voice was quite steady and calm.

"No. No, it can't be a vampire. Exposing werewolves would lead to exposure of us all, and no vampire would want that sort of attention."

"But _Cutler's_ a vampire-

"I _know_ that Cutler's a vampire, god damn it! I know _that_," Hal snapped suddenly. But it was only a second before he seemed to realise he had snapped and apologise.

"Sorry," he said, softly. "It's just...all this stuff with Cutler is almost...opening fresh wounds."

Hal looked sombre.

"What is it with you two anyway?" I asked. "How do you know him?"

"I...I knew Cutler both before...and after he became a vampire." Hal paused, then obviously thought he might have said too much, for he added quickly; "But I never knew him well."

"You must have known him quite well to know that this perfume thing would work," I pointed out.

Hal smiled drily. "As a human," he said. "Nick Cutler was highly allergic to perfumes, in particular the brand Chanel No.19. Once a vampire, this allergy sort of...disappeared. But it was found that Cutler's exposure to the perfume irritated his nose so that his heightened sense of smell to supernatural beings was sort of...tainted. And reduced. I – _people_ recognised this as both a disadvantage and an advantage."

"An advantage to who; him or them?"

Hal gave a thin smile. "Exactly."

Before either of us could say anymore, Kirby appeared on the landing. "Whoops," he said, grinning. "Didn't realise this was a meeting place!"

"It isn't," I said, darkly. "We weren't _meeting_ here, we just..._met_ here, and..." I trailed off.

"Got your eye on another fanged prince, have we?" Kirby winked again before swaggering away down the corridor, whistling, leaving me spluttering to Hal.

"I haven't got my eye...I don't...I'm not..."

"No," said Hal, quickly. "No. Of course not."

There was some seriously awkward silence before I said, more to change the subject than anything;

"I can't work him out, you know."

"Who, Kirby?" said Hal. "He just seems to want to help Annie, but I'm not so sure."

"You don't trust him?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you _do_ trust him?"

"I didn't say that either."

Before we could elaborate on whether Kirby was or wasn't trustworthy, Tom appeared.

"Right, seriously guys," he said. "It's not funny anymore. What the hell is going on?"

I told Tom briefly about the werewolf video, but Tom didn't seem to see it as much of a problem; he was more concerned at the idea of people having watched a werewolf transformation.

"It's kind of private, innit?" he said. I nodded, trying not to think about the full moon that was coming up in a few days.

Just then, _Annie_ appeared, and I began to think that the landing was less of a place to talk in private, and more of a meeting place for the entire household.

"What the hell are all you lot doing here? I don't see why I should have to do _everything_ around here."

"Yeah guys," said Kirby, who had just reappeared (the amount of people now squashed onto the landing was almost comical). "Give Annie a break. She deserves one."

Disapproving looks were sent round by and to just about everyone, before the group dispersed itself, and I went off to my bedroom, where I fully intended to catch up on some sleep. But was I did not expect was for this sleep to be filled with dreams of dark alleyways, of being chased, and of Cutler, ripping into my throat with his teeth.

x-x-x

One morning a few days later, I found myself alone in the living room with Kirby. It had been an awkward few days all in all. I was still finding it difficult to form an opinion on the ghost. He would irritate me beyond belief one minute, and then appear kind and good natured towards Annie or Tom the next. Annie seemed to genuinely like Kirby, and was always singing his praises, which was unusual, as Annie had been extremely grumpy recently. She seemed to feel almost...hard done by. As if _she_ was the one that always had to do everything. Well, I supposed she _did_ seem to do most things around the house. But that wasn't _our_ fault. Tom and Hal had work, and I had...Well, ok, _I_ could have helped a bit more. But it was difficult to help someone who kept saying; "No, no. _I'll _do it." all the time.

And so we had all begun to tread carefully around her, and I was actually quite glad that she had announced that she was taking Eve out for a walk, as it meant I could escape her nagging. My glee was brief, however, for I had to now put up with Kirby, who was wafting about the room, examining things and making remarks such as; "Gosh, look at that" and "Well, how interesting."

I attempted to ignore him as best I could by hiding behind one of Hal's newspapers. But then Kirby made an "Oooh!" sound, and I looked round. He was examining the calendar that was pinned to the wall.

"Full moon tonight then, eh?" he said, winking and making wolf howling sounds.

"Yes," I said. "Your _point_?"

"Ooft, no need to take _that _sort of tone with me. Even if it _is_ your time of the month."

I said nothing, attempting to outstare the newspaper.

"So," said Kirby, taking a seat on the squashy sofa. "Where will you 'do the dirty', as it were?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you know! Where are going to go to 'do your thing'? _Transform_."

"Oh..." I said. "I'm not sure."

I had been planning to use an abandoned warehouse I had been using for the past few transformations. I wasn't sure what Tom usually did, but this warehouse seemed to work quite well for me. But this wasn't a plan I was about to tell Kirby.

Luckily, I was saved from further inquisition by my phone, ringing loudly. I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. The only person who ever contacted me by phone was-

"Hi, it's Cutler."

"Oh...hello." I hadn't spoken or been in contact with Cutler since the night we had met Fergus. I was worried that he had become suspicious of me, and hadn't wanted to be the one to get in contact. I had actually been ready to give up on the vampire, especially since my work as a double-crossing detective didn't really seem to be going anywhere; I hadn't discovered anything.

But Cutler seemed to want to show me something new.

"Listen, is there any chance of you popping round to my office today?"

"Today?" I said, trying very hard to ignore Kirby, who was making horrible gyrating movements with his hips. "Sure. Umm, what time is good for you?"

"Well I'm in court for most of the day...But could you come round maybe later this afternoon?"

"Sure," I said. "But I can't stay long. I have to...be somewhere."

"It won't be long," said Cutler. "I've just got some things I want to show you."

I hoped it wasn't going to be another video. But I also hoped that perhaps after the meeting today, I would have a better idea of what Cutler's plans were. Hal had said that no vampire would want to expose werewolves; doing so would mean equal trouble for them. So then why did Cutler seem to be doing exactly that?

When I put my phone away, I noticed Kirby watching me; a smug expression on his face.

"Oh, well _done_," he said. "Playing hard to get, eh? The whole 'got to be somewhere else' card. Nice one."

I scowled. "Actually," I said. "I _do_ have to be somewhere tonight."

"Oh of course!" said Kirby, clapping his hands together. "I forgot! Your little rendezvous with the full moon. So tell me, does your little bloodsucking friend know about your...well, _condition_."

"No," I said, shortly.

Kirby nodded. "I suppose that would sort of ruin the whole, you know, _spying_ thing."

I looked at him sharply. "How do you know about that?"

"Oh I've got my ways of finding things out if I want to," said Kirby. "It seems young Tom was very happy to open up about things."

"Tom told you? But why?"

"Because he _trusts_ me," Kirby said, smiling. "He doesn't trust _you_. Not anymore. Not since-

Kirby stopped mid sentence, clapping a hand to his mouth.

"_What_?" I asked, coolly.

"Oh, I shouldn't say," said Kirby. "It's not my place."

I rolled my eyes; I could tell that Kirby was just bursting to tell me whatever gossip he had unearthed. "You can't just leave it like that," I said. "Tell me what Tom said."

Kirby held up his hands in mock defeat. "Ok, ok you've won me over. He said...he said that since you started doing all this stuff with 'that bloody vampire'" Kirby waggled his fingers to indicate a direct quote from Tom. "That you've changed."

"Changed?" I said. "Changed how?"

"Oh, just that he can't talk to you anymore. Because you're always busy with the vampire."

"Tom said that?" I couldn't believe it...Surely Tom understood the importance of what I was doing. Cutler's plans could mean danger to werewolves; to him!

Kirby nodded. "Oh, but don't worry about him," he said, quickly. "It's a bit childish really, isn't it? I mean," he paused. "It's not _your_ fault that not all of your attention can be given to him. Your undercover work must be _so_ important. Tom's just a child; a selfish child, if he can't see that. A selfish child that wants attention."

"Yeah..." I said, slowly, thinking over Tom's words. "Yeah you're right."

Kirby smiled. "But hey," he said. "Don't tell Tom I told you those things. It would cause friction, you know?"

x-x-x

I decided to head over to the solicitor's office at 5 o'clock. That would give well over an hour or so before I needed to get away to transform.

"Where the hell are you off to?" demanded Tom, as I headed to the front door. "It's full moon and all!"

"I am perfectly aware that it is the full moon, _thank you_," I said, coolly. Tom's words from earlier were still going round in my head. "I am going to see Cutler."

"_Again?_" said Tom, incredulously.

"Yes, _again_," I retorted. "My work with Cutler is very important."

"But you're always off with Mr Cutler nowadays..."

"Oh for goodness sake Tom!" I cried, annoyance rising. "Just because I can't focus all of my attention on _you_ anymore! Stop being such a child!

With that, I left the house, slamming the front door.

I was angry and annoyed with Tom, and thought all manner of bad things about him until I reached the end of the road, when my anger evaporated completely, and was replaced by feelings of immense shame and guilt. _How_ could I have shouted those things at Tom? It had been horrible and hurtful. I wanted immediately to go back and apologise to him, but time was already creeping away and I didn't want to risk being late. It would just have to be left for now.

When I stepped in to Cutler's office, I plastered a very forced smile on my face, and tried very hard to forget about Tom and ignore the burning feeling of guilt inside me. Cutler was rummaging through several papers on his desk, and greeted me with a hurried monologue about his day in court, of which I understood very little. Finally, it seemed, Cutler had found the things he was looking for, and gestured for me to sit down.

"I've got some interesting newspaper articles to show you," said Cutler. "Now obviously none of them actually mention werewolves; I mean, why would they?" Cutler grinned. "But I think the evidence is all there. If you look closely..."

Cutler handed me some pieces of paper, and pointed out certain sentences. "You see, the evidence for werewolves is staring people right in the face," he gestured to a faded picture of a mauled body in a newspaper. "But nobody wants to go ahead and be the one to actually say it. Do you know why?" Cutler didn't wait for me to answer this question. "Because they're frightened to admit that a supernatural world like this might actually exist. I mean, it would shatter their entire belief system, wouldn't it?"

I nodded, but my concentration was rapidly slipping away from Cutler's voice as I felt an all-too familiar sensation pass through my body. Cutler was talking again, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. And then, a jolt ripped through my body like lighting. I let out a stifled cry. Cutler stopped talking; looked at me. I could feel my whole body trembling. I only hoped this was largely unseen by the vampire.

"What?" he said. "What's the matter?"

"N-Nothing!" I managed to stammer, fighting the urge to cry out again. "I'm just-

I stopped dead; eyes fixed to the clock above Cutler's head.

"Is that...is that the, ah, _correct_ time?"

Cutler looked round at the clock, then down at his watch, then to the screen on his phone, back to the clock and finally to face me again.

"Yeah," he said. "A minute or two slow maybe. Why?"

Oh god. My heart was racing. If that clock was right...Oh god, if that clock was right, I was due to transform at any moment. The clock in my bedroom must have been wrong! Why oh why did I not check on some other time-keeping device! Damn, damn, damn. What the hell was I going to do? Oh god. Another jolt leapt through my body, and I stood up to hide my discomfort.

"I'm going to have to-uh, go. Yes. Sorry." Every word was a struggle to get out. "I'm very, ah! _Late_ for something very, _very_ important. I'll um...see you again, ah, _soon_."

And then, before I could stutter out anything else, I hurtled out of the office, trying desperately hard to ignore Cutler shouting my name, and get away as fast as possible.


	8. Chapter Seven

_How _I ever managed to make it to the abandoned warehouse, I will never know. But miraculously, I did, and I awoke groggily the next morning to find my clothes, ripped and torn, discarded all around the warehouse in the near darkness, and familiar aching pains running throughout my limbs. Groaning, I dragged myself up off the stone floor, and examined my clothes, and discovering that they were utterly unwearable. I pulled out the mobile phone that Tom had given me from the pocket of my ripped jeans, thinking I could call the house and get Hal or Tom to bring round some spare clothes or something. There were five new messages and several missed calls on the phone; all from Cutler.

"Oh god," I groaned to myself. I couldn't _believe_ that I had gotten so close to transforming right in front of the vampire. How foolish of me! I wondered how far I had gotten before I'd been able to get away from the solicitor's office. I sincerely hoped that Cutler was still ignorant to my being a werewolf, as it would not just be Hal's plan that would be in trouble if he found out.

But before I could deal with Cutler, I needed to get out of the warehouse. I dialled the number for Honolulu Heights. It took a while before anyone answered, but eventually, Hal appeared on the end of the other line.

"Hello?" he said, uncertainly.

"Hi," I said. "Look, it's me. Florence. Listen, can you bring down some-

"Oh Florence, good," interrupted Hal. "Annie's getting hysterical in the living room and I'm not enjoying it."

"I...wait, _what?_"

"Annie's getting hysterical. She's getting hysterical...and I'm not enjoying it. Someone's moved her rota, and she thinks that _I_ did it, and I know I didn't and I- "

"Ok," I interrupted, not fully understanding Hal's flow of speech."Well, if you could bring me some clothes, I'll come back and-

"Oh no she's coming over, I'll have to go," said Hal, quickly. "I'll try and talk to her. Goodbye."

"No, wait. Hal, I-

Hal had hung up. I groaned loudly.

My phone began buzzing again and I, thinking it was Hal calling back, answered immediately; eager to ask again for Hal to bring round those spare clothes.

"Hal? Listen, I really do need some clothes, can you-

I stopped. The line crackled, and a voice that was certainly _not_ Hal's came into focus.

"Florence?"

Crap. It was _Cutler_.

"Oh hello!" I trilled, hoping beyond hope that Cutler hadn't heard me chattering away to who I thought was Hal about clothes.

"Look, what _happened_ to you last night? I tried calling but you just-

I panicked entirely, and quickly hung up the phone. Oh god. What had I _done_? Why hadn't I just come up with an excuse or something, like any normal person would have? Though I strongly suspected that _normal_ people would not often have to come up with an excuse to fit my current situation. But now Cutler was going to think me even stranger than ever, hanging up on him!

Groaning again, I hastily dialled the number for Honolulu Heights, before Cutler could try calling back. Hal answered again, but quicker this time.

"Hello?" I said. "Look, Hal, I really need you to bring round some clothes for me. It's been an absolute nightmare, and I just really need to get out of this warehouse and sort things out. Alright?"

"Ok," said Hal, who sounded distracted. "Alright, I'll send Tom round with some things."

I thanked Hal, and hung up the phone, being sure to switch it off when I was done. I couldn't deal with _any_ more phone calls. I pulled a slightly torn blanket over me that had been left in the warehouse by me from a previous transformation, and settled back against the wall.

Tom arrived around fifteen minutes later, swinging a carrier bag of laundry.

"Hello," he said. "It's my birthday today!"

"Wonderful," I said distractedly, not really listening, and snatching the bag from him. "Thanks for this by the way. Hang on...what are _these_?"

I had pulled from the carrier bag an oversized men's anorak, and the grey pencil skirt I had worn when first posing as a journalist. There was nothing else in the bag.

"Tom," I said, slowly. "_What_, are these?"

I held up the garments accusingly.

"Clothes," shrugged Tom. "You said you wanted clothes."

"Yes, clothes to _wear_ Tom, clothes to actually _wear_! Do you honestly think I can walk around wearing _these_?"

I shook the offending items once more in his face.

"I can't wear them," I concluded.

"Fine!" broke out Tom violently. "Fine! Go naked then! And give everyone a good laugh!"

I glared at him. "Oh stop being so childish!" I snapped.

"Are you calling me a child then?" shot back Tom.

"I...maybe," I faltered slightly. "And what if I am, eh?"

My words implied a confidence that bordered on aggression, but my tone could not have been more different. I was growing nervous; this was becoming worryingly like an argument.

"I knew it," said Tom. "I knew you'd changed!"

"Ch-_changed?_" I said.

"Since you've been hanging out with that Mr Cutler, you've become a right moody and all."

"A mood..._what_?"

"Yeah that's right," said Tom, continuing as though I hadn't said anything. "You're always down on me, and hating on me, and I'm not gonna take it any more!"

"I..."

"I don't deserve to be the receptor...the reciprocity...the re-

"The recipient?" I offered.

"Yeah that's the one. I don't deserve to be the recipient of your bad temper. And therefore I'm going to excuse myself from the situation until you can give me the respect I deserve."

Tom paused following this bizarre monologue, counting something in his head using his fingers as an aid.

"Yep," he concluded. "That's it. Have a nice day." He gave a nod, before turning away from me, and exciting the warehouse.

I stared at the spot where he had just been stood, _utterly_ perplexed. What on _earth_ had just happened? Tom had sounded as though he had swallowed a dictionary, albeit a slightly confused one.

But I couldn't be bothered to ponder Tom's strange behaviour anymore, not when there were much more pressing matters at hand, such as _what_ I was going to do about clothes to get home in. Eventually, after much picking and pulling at torn fabric, I just pulled on the large anorak and pencil skirt. They may have been serious fashion faux pas, but at least they didn't have gaping holes in them.

But this still did not stop people staring at me as I weaved my way through the busy streets. I suppose it must have looked a bit strange; a young girl with mad hair and a scratched face, wearing a khaki anorak that reached nearly to the bottom of a too-short pencil skirt, that revealed bruised, gangly legs with a pair of trainers stuck on the end. A strange sight indeed. So you can imagine my horror, when I brushed shoulders with a smartly dressed man, looked at him to apologise, only to find myself looking right into the face of _Cutler_.

"Ah!" I practically shrieked, jumping backwards and landing on an elderly lady's foot. "Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Florence?" said Cutler, frowning and moving to take a step closer. "What _happened_ to you last night? I tried calling but didn't-

"Ha, yes!" I said, taking another step away. I wasn't wearing the bloody perfume for goodness sake! This was an utter disaster. "Sorry, I just had to go to this, uh...this _thing_, and then my phone..._broke_ or something...I don't know."

Cutler was still frowning, and it was no wonder considering the absolute _rubbish_ that was coming out of my mouth. But the vampire's frown deepened even more as his eyes travelled from my face down the rest of my body, taking in my peculiar garments.

"What are you...those are some interesting...wow." For once, it seemed that Cutler was lost for words.

I attempted to laugh off my uncomfort. "Ha! yeah," I said, tugging awkwardly at the anorak. "I was just trying out this new, uh, this new...look. A new...fashion. You know?"

"Oh, right," said Cutler, blinking in surprise. "Oh. You see I thought that maybe your washing machine had broken or something."

Ah. Yes. That would have been by far a more reasonable explanation for my strange attire. But Cutler was not looking at me anymore. He was glancing about, distractedly, sniffing.

"Hey!" I cried suddenly, keen to distract the vampire. "Wh-where are you going, then?"

Cutler looked surprised at my outburst. "I..." he swallowed. "I'm on my way to work." He held up a briefcase.

"Oh right," I said. "Of course you are!"

I was feeling understandably jittery, and was attempting to shuffle away from Cutler; terrified that at any moment I was going to be uncovered.

"Look, are you _sure_ you're alright?" Cutler peered into my face. "You're not feeling worried about the, you know, _wolf_ thing, are you?" Cutler lowered his voice and leant closer.

"No!" I blurted. "No, no. Not at all!" I lurched further away again.

Cutler looked relieved, though not entirely convinced. "Alright," he said. "I thought we'd lost you after last night. Thought I'd, you know, _scared_ you off and that you'd done a runner!" Cutler's tone was airy enough, but I could detect a real sense of relief underneath this light tone.

"Oh no," I said. "Not at all."

"Well that's a relief," said Cutler, looking down at his watch. "Right, well I best be off. I'll talk to you later then?"

"Absolutely," I said, smiling lamely. But I was glad the exchange was finally over. As soon as Cutler had turned away and was lost in the crowds, I breathed a loud sigh of relief, and practically ran all the way back to Honolulu Heights.

Kirby was in the living room when I broke in, panting. He wolf whistled when he saw me.

"Oh _my_," he said. "Aren't we looking _ravishing_ this morning?" He smiled widely.

"Oh shut up," I said, flopping down on the sofa. "Where is everyone anyway?"

I was hoping to work things out with Tom; to speak with him and perhaps apologise. But it seemed that this reconciliation would have to wait.

"Tom's gone out," said Kirby. "Annie's reading to Eve, and Hal's playing dominos by himself in his room."

"Tom's gone out?" I said. "Gone out where?"

Kirby shrugged. "He didn't say, you know what he's like. Running off here and there, never saying where he's going, or what time he's going to be back...You know how it is with young people."

"Hmm," I said. "Tom _is_ actually older than me you know."

Kirby's mouth opened in an almost comical image of shock. "_No_," he said. "He _never_ is!"

I nodded.

"But he's so young!" said Kirby, taking a seat beside me on the sofa. "And you're so, you know..._mature_."

I considered this. "Really?" I said. "You think I'm mature?"

"Oh absolutely," said Kirby. "I think you act very sensible and, you know, _sophisticated_."

"Wow," I said, unable to contain a certain smug pride, though also surprise at the compliment that Kirby seemed to be paying me. "Oh, well. Thank you. That's nice of you to say."

Kirby beamed.

x-x-x

Sometime after lunch, I escaped the ever-growing heavy atmosphere at Honolulu Heights on the pretence of popping to the shop to fetch some milk. I was glad indeed to shut the door on the sounds of baby Eve's wails and Radio Four blaring from Hal's bedroom. As I stepped out the front door, I took a great breath of fresh air, feeling a sense of calm relief wash over me. Having made it through the previous evening and that morning's disastrous events, I now felt as though I was ready to face anything the world had to deal to me. I was ready, even, to face Tom. I was determined to talk to him in a sensible, mature manner, and settle the tension that seemed to have formed between us. I had been planning sentences in my head all morning to say to him, and was confident that we could resolve the situation and make up.

But it seemed that Tom was not so keen to make amends as I was, for the werewolf had not been back to the house _all_ day. Annie had been growing annoyed that his absence was wreaking havoc with her schedule, and _I_ was getting annoyed that my perfectly rehearsed reconciliation sentences were going unused.

I took longer than necessary to walk to the shop; circling all around the park and up by the allotments, and thinking over how much my life had changed since stumbling upon Hal and Tom in that cafe. Yes, I may now have been living in a much more stable environment; I wasn't constantly worried about how to pay bills, or how to afford housing, and I had friends...or sorts. But I was also now wrapped up in a web of lies and deceit, leading a double life that had entangled me in a story that I was sure went far beyond the small community of Barry Island.

When I did eventually get to the shop, the light of the day was fast fading, and they were out of milk. But a plump shopkeeper with a florid face was eyeing me suspiciously over the counter, so I grabbed all sorts of other items in a panic, and ended up spending close to ten pounds on goodness-knows what.

I let myself back in to Honolulu Heights to find the living room swamped in the near darkness. I flicked on the light, and walked through to the kitchen, emptying the contents of my shopping bag on to the counter. I was examining a jar of pickled gherkins, when I heard the front door bang, and realised that Tom was returning home at last.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

"Where the hell have _you _been?" I heard Annie ask Tom in an annoyed tone. "You were supposed to be watching Eve this afternoon-it's on the rota."

"I thought we could just-

"Oh stop acting like a kid for god's sake," huffed Annie, interrupting Tom.

I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable. It seemed that I was not the only one who had been finding Tom's behaviour childish recently. I was about to go through into the living room and bombard Tom with my perfected resolution sentences, but the jar of pickled gherkins chose that moment to slip from my grasp and fall to the floor; smashing and sending gherkins spilling out on to the floor. This took a good ten minutes to clean up, and when I eventually made it into the living room, neither Tom nor Annie could be seen.

"Tom?" I called, uncertainly.

Suddenly, there was a crash and a bang from upstairs, and then angry voices joined in the racket. Frowning, I raced up the stairs, and nearly collided right into Annie, who was watching the scene in front of her unfold with horror in her eyes. Hal and Tom were fighting, _properly_ fighting; fists were flying everywhere amid cries of anguish.

"Aah!" yelled Hal, pushing Tom violently away from him. "Your toxic fucking blood!"

Tom turned and pushed roughly past me and Annie, before bolting down the stairs.

"No, wait, _Tom_!" cried Annie, hurrying down the stairs after him. But we heard the front door slam when she was only a few stairs down.

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" Annie shouted, rounding on Hal.

"I don't know!" cried Hal. "I don't know, he just came in and...Hey, did you know it was Tom's birthday today?"

"I-_what_? No!" said Annie, looking shocked. "No of course I didn't. That's not what he was angry about was it? Oh god..." She trailed off.

A sick feeling was twisting about horribly in my stomach. _I_ had known it was Tom's birthday. Okay, so I may have repressed this knowledge deep within myself; so deep, in fact, that I had completely forgotten about it until Hal had just mentioned it.

"I knew it was his birthday," I admitted in a small voice.

"_What_?" said Hal. "And you didn't think to, I don't know, _say_ anything about it?"

"I don't- I'm _didn't_...I forgot okay! I'm sorry!" I said. "I just...there was a lot of other stuff going on, and...I wasn't really listening that well when Tom told me, and then me and him...well we argued straight after that, and so it was put right out of my head and I..." I trailed off.

"You argued?" said Hal. "Argued about _what_ exactly?"

"It sounds ridiculous now," I said, miserably. "But it was about those stupid _clothes_ that Tom packed for me this morning. I know it's stupid, but I was just really annoyed and-

"But Tom didn't pack those clothes for you this morning," interrupted Hal, looking confused. "Kirby did."

"I-_what_?"

Hal nodded. "Well everyone was really busy and-

"Hold on," interrupted Annie. "_I_ was really busy. I think you'll find that _you_ were just doing press ups."

"Well, _any_way," continued Hal. "And so _Kirby_ offered to put some things in a bag for you, and then _Tom_ offered to take them over to the warehouse."

I slowly digested this information. If Tom _hadn't_ chosen those clothes for me...then he hadn't deserved any of my anger! I shouldn't have gotten annoyed with him at all! Guilt flooded me as suddenly as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over me, except the guilt was hot and prickly and made me burn all over. Not only had I entirely forgotten about his birthday, but I had also shouted at him for no reason! I turned and began running down the stairs.

"Wait, Florence, where are you _going_?" called Hal.

"I need to find Tom!" I yelled back, already flying out the front door.

Outside, night had fallen; scaring away the heat of the warm, spring day and leaving behind a chilly mist and light drizzle. I started off at a run; desperate to find Tom and apologise and explain, but was out of breath by the time I reached the end of the road, so slowed to a jog, trying to get things straight in my mind. So _Kirby_ had been the one to pack me those ridiculous clothes to wear...but _why_? To humiliate me? This did not sound like an entirely unlikely thing for Kirby to want to do, but the whole thing seemed, well, almost too _crude_ for the ghost. I had thought that there was a sneakiness about Kirby, and a practical joke involving embarrassing clothing did not fit this at all. It was almost _lame_.

So, what for? Was it, then, that I was _supposed_ to have believed Tom to have packed the clothes, and to get angry at him for it? Was Kirby's entire purpose in packing those clothes to cause friction between me and Tom? This was possible. I thought back over the past few days; whenever I had found myself thinking bad things about the werefolf, _Kirby_ had always been there, encouraging these negative thoughts. He'd been turning me against Tom all along! And, judging from the fight that had just broken out between Hal and Tom, I had not been the only one to fall under the influence of the spectre. But what had Kirby been hoping to achieve in doing this? What was he _up_ to? Could it possibly have anything to do with the prophecy, or Eve, or the old ones or _anything_ that I was only really beginning to understand?

But before I could think in detail about what Kirby was doing, and why he was doing it, I had to find Tom. But where would he have gone? I had no idea. I ran up and down streets all the way in to town, where the search became more difficult as the streets were packed with people; out visiting restaurants and bars and generally enjoying themselves.

Unlike me. For well over an _hour_ I searched through the crowded streets for Tom, growing increasingly cold and wet, not to mention worried._ Where_ was he? Surely there were only so many places he could have gone? But when the drizzle had well and truly turned into rain, I decided I would have to give up and head back. Sighing I trudged my way back through the streets, still keeping an eye out for Tom, but I had only just turned onto the street in which Honolulu Heights stood, when I spotted Hal, sat out in his car, staring blankly out at the road. Confused, I started towards him, when someone collided heavily into the side of me.

"Hey, watch it!" I began, but then realised who it was that had bumped in to me. "_Tom_!" I cried. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you!"

Tom looked blankly at me. "I've only been in the pub round the corner and all," he said.

"Oh Tom," I said, forgetting my perfectly rehearsed apologies and babbling instead. "I'm so sorry about before, about all those things I said, about getting annoyed over nothing, and saying you were childish. I didn't mean any of it, and you were right, _I_ was the one with the problem and I just..." I trailed off.

"Alright calm down," said Tom, looking flustered. "You know I'm sorry too. I don't think you're a right moody at all."

I smiled, feeling relieved.

"But what's Hal doing over there in the car?" asked Tom, pointing.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Together, we went over to where Hal's car stood. Tom rapped loudly on the window.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Hal looked round, a strange, distant look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry about going mental before," said Tom.

Slowly, silently, Hal wound down the window.

"But look," said Tom. "Did you say I should be kept in a kennel or what?"

Hal stared blankly at Tom. "_What_?"

"Did you say I should be kept in a kennel?"

"I...Why would I say that you should be kept in a kennel?"

"But I thought..." Tom trailed off. "Kirby," he said, suddenly, as though coming to a realisation.

"I think he's had us all on," I said. "You know, turned us against each other."

"But why would he do that?" asked Tom.

"I don't know..." said Hal, staring at his dashboard. "But I don't suppose it was just for recreation. Come on."

Hastily, Hal, pulled his car back up the hill, and Tom and I hurried after him. We burst back in to Honolulu Heights.

"Annie?" called Hal.

There was no reply.

"Kirby," muttered Tom, and together we raced up the stairs, where we found Kirby in the attic, wearing a smug expression on his face.

"Where's Annie?" demanded Tom immediately.

Kirby considered this. "That's a _really_ deep question you're asking," he said eventually.

"You killed her," said Hal, looking shocked.

"Well, she was already dead," said Kirby. "So, not literally but...yes!" He grinned triumphantly.

There was something horribly malevolent in Kirby's tone, and I found myself subconsciously shifting so that I was largely concealed behind Hal and Tom.

"No," breathed Tom. "You can't have!"

"But why are you_ here_ Kirby?" asked Hal.

"Well..." said Kirby. "I was sent here. Sent here with something _very_ important I had to do!" He smiled hideously. "Now, the only problem was that there were four ex_treme_ly irritating supernaturals who just seemed to _love_ getting in my way! Oh the troubles of being evil. But, luckily for me, you lot seemed to be very easy to, well, _break_. I knew that young Tom didn't like that little Florence was playing games with your fanged friend, so I told him a few things to make him jealous. A few..._white_ lies, if you like. I knew it was important that little Florence kept her dirty doggy secret hidden from the vampire, so I just..._altered_ the clock slightly in a hope that he would _witness_ her hideous transformation."

I felt my blood run cold. So Kirby had changed the clocks! It was _his_ fault I had nearly transformed in front of Cutler!

"Unfortunately for me, this didn't work out that great, a little bit _sloppy_ of me, if I say so myself. So I continued with my other plan. To break the bond of trust that seems to have grown in a sickly sweet manner between all of you. I made Florence think that Tom was incompetent and childish and that she was under-appreciated, I made Tom think that nobody liked him, I made Annie think none of you cared and that she was useless, and I made Hal remember the _monster_ he truly is. It was incredibly easy, really. You lot may _think_ you have a strong bond, but the slightest, _puff_!" Kirby blew air dramatically from his lips. "And you all fall down."

There was deafening silence in the room as we all digested Kirby's tale of deceit.

"And now," he said. "I can go about what I _really_ came here to do!"

He looked towards Eve's cot which stood behind us.

"You want to kill the baby," said Tom. "But _why_?"

"Because that was what I was sent here to do, _silly_!" said Kirby.

"Then you'll have to get through me first," said Tom, clenching his fist.

"Ah, well you see, _little man_," said Kirby. "There's just one problem with that. The baby is not in the crib!"

With a click of his fingers, Kirby vanished, and we heard baby Eve's cry from downstairs. Tom bolted from the attic, me and Hal quickly following behind.

But down in the living room, it was too late. Kirby was holding a knife over Eve, the lights flickering above him.

"Move, and I'll kill her," he said to Tom. "I'll _double_ dare you. You know what, I'll even _triple_ dare you," he said, as Hal and I clattered on to the scene.

We stared, horror struck, as Kirby leant down over the baby. "Sorry Eve," he said, as the lights in the room flickered again. "It's time to go." The lights flickered once more, and Kirby turned to look at them. "You know," he said. "You ought to get that checked out."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a flash of bright blue light appeared, sending with it the figure of _Annie_. Except this was Annie like I'd never seen her before. She was bright and ghostly. Somehow, I wasn't quite sure _how_, for this new Annie did not seem altogether _solid_, she grabbed Kirby around the head, and began to squeeze him tightly. The evil spectre gave a great yell, before blasting into an explosion of light.

The warm, yellow lights came back on in the living room, and Annie leant down to pick up Eve. I let out a great breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in, and looked from Hal to Tom, both of whom were still staring at Annie in shock.

She turned to us, gently rocking Eve.

"Is it me," she said. "Or do I have the worst taste in men?"


	9. Chapter Eight

It took us all several days to recover from the 'Kirby' incident, but eventually all the truths came out and normality was established. As much as normality _can_ be established in a house inhabited by a vampire, a ghost, two werewolves and a saviour baby. But a scheduled pattern seemed to fall over our days; Tom and Hal would head off in the morning to work in the café, Annie would wave them off, and then look after Eve using her strict rota and vigorously planned activities. And I…well _I_ would busy myself with doing very little. I had discovered the joys of daytime television, and found that I could very easily occupy myself for several hours at a time watching re runs of _The Jeremy Kyle Show_, until Annie would rope me in to assist her in teaching baby Eve sign language.

"You ought to get a job, you know," she said as we folded laundry together one morning, about a week after Kirby had left us. "Like a proper job. And _pretending_ to be a journalist doesn't count."

"And what about my oh-so important detective work, eh?" I said, folding one of Eve's bibs with a flourish. "That's a job. Of sorts."

"But it's not like you get _paid_ to do that, is it?"

"Isn't discovering secret plans that could potentially endanger the entire human race more important than a few pennies in the money jar?"

"And besides," Annie continued as if I hadn't spoken. "You haven't had anything to do with Cutler for _ages_."

This was awkwardly true. Since I had bumped into Cutler wearing the anorak and pencil skirt the previous week, and assured him that I was still up for our research together, I hadn't heard from the vampire at all. A very small part of me hoped that, despite what I'd said, Cutler would have given up on me, as my detective work seemed to be growing more dangerous. I thought back to when I had almost transformed in front of Cutler, and shuddered.

However, no sooner were Annie's words out of her mouth, did my phone ring loudly in my pocket, making me jump.

"Ha!" I said to Annie, taking out the device triumphantly. "That'll just be something for work. You know, for my _job_. Hello?" I put the phone to my ear. "Hello? He_llo_?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "It was a _text message_," she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, right," I said, looking confusedly down at the phone. "Well, you see, I'm just not used to this new phone…" I fumbled with the hyper sensitive touch screen, and eventually opened up the text message:

_Hey history maker! I've got something VERY interesting to show you. Are you around this afternoon? I'm free from 2pm. C x_

I stared for a long time at the message; reading and re-reading it slowly. Annie was watching me expectantly.

"Well?" she said. "Or is it all written in a text-speak you can't understand?"

Ignoring Annie's mention of 'text speak', whatever that was, I handed over the phone for her to read the message.

"Something very interesting?" she read. "What could that be?"

"I don't know…" I said, thoughtfully. "It's weird, but Cutler seems to want to prove to me that werewolves exist. But what could that have to do with the Old Ones?"

Annie looked pensive. "Maybe it's got nothing to do with the Old Ones," she said. "Maybe this Cutler bloke just wants to expose werewolves."

"But Hal said that no vampire would want werewolves exposed. He said it would mean trouble for _them_ too."

"I don't know, then," sighed Annie, collecting up the laundry basket. "But reply to that text message quickly, or Cutler will think you've forgotten him." She gave a small wink as she left the room.

I set about replying to Cutler's message, and after sending him a blank message, and then one that accidently said I was a 'creep', I finally wrote one saying I was free all afternoon, albeit one that was written entirely in capital letters. Though, as soon as I'd done this, I wondered; did I really _want_ to see what Cutler had to show me? How much longer could I go about feigning ignorance of werewolves? And what about when I could no longer ignore the obvious evidence that Cutler was showing me? What would happen then? My phone beeped again, interrupting my thoughts.

_Excellent. Meet you at the usual place? (: _

I stared at the smiley face that was printed at the end of the message. It was so…so _friendly_. It was as if I was arranging a lunch date with a friend, not a werewolf investigation with a vampire.

The 'usual place', it transpired after several more text messages, was right outside Honolulu Heights, and so, later that afternoon, I found myself hovering outside the B&B, waiting for Cutler to appear. I'd been out there around five minutes, when I heard my name being called. I turned to see Tom advancing towards me, grinning. Hal was shuffling awkwardly behind him.

"Hello!" roared Tom. "What are you doing-

"Shh!" I said, looking wildly around, expecting to see Cutler peering out from every corner. "Get in the house, _quickly_!" I hissed, chivvying Tom up the garden path.

"What's the hurry?" said Hal, recoiling away from my slapping hands.

"_Cutler_'s going to be here at any moment!" I said, continuing to push Tom along. "Move!"

Hal, seeming to finally grasp the seriousness of the situation, nodded, and grabbed Tom's arm, pulling him up into the house.

I let out a breath of relief, turning back to sweep an eye up and down the, thankfully deserted, street. Sighing, I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. That had been close-too close. I was going to have to think up a less dangerous meeting place if these little rendezvous with Cutler were going to continue. Perhaps I should look into bribing someone into allowing me to use their home, to make it look as if I _did_ actually live somewhere.

"Florence!" Somebody calling my name made me jump and look up. I saw Cutler striding down the street towards me. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his sleeves were rolled up, and his tie loosened against the mid afternoon heat.

"Oh, hello," I said, hurriedly straightening up. I was very glad indeed that I was not wearing a pencil skirt and anorak this time.

"Thought we'd walk," said Cutler, grinning. "What I want to show you is up at the woods."

"Oh right!" I said with false gaiety. I had never been a fan of great exercise. "Is it…is it…far?" I asked, attempting to be casual.

Cutler laughed. He was evidently in a very good mood. I wondered if it had anything to do with what he was about to show me.

"Not a big fan of exercise, then?" enquired the vampire as we fell into step along the pavement.

I smiled weakly. "Not really," I admitted.

"I've just realise I've been very rude," said Cutler. "I barely know a thing about you! So, what is it that you like to do, then?"

I swallowed, feeling my mouth go dry. This was as bad as career interviews at school, where they asked you to list your hobbies! I mean, what if you haven't got any? Why can't 'sitting around' be deemed as a hobby?

"Um…" I said, playing for time. "I like…you know…a lot of things."

"Yeah?" said Cutler, presumably feigning interest. "A well-rounded individual, eh? That's good."

We were silent for a moment.

"Do you?" I asked after a while, wishing my voice didn't sound quite so loud and stilted in the silence. "Have any hobbies, I mean."

Cutler thought about this. "Not really," he said. "Suppose I'm a bit like you, I guess. I like several things. And there's my work, of course. That takes up quite a lot of…of time, you know?"

"Of course," I said quickly, nodding. Though I could think of something else that probably took up a lot of Cutler's time…

"But I'm sure you know all about work," Cutler continued. "Journalism can be difficult, can't it? A bit hit and miss?"

"Oh, absolutely," I said, lying through my teeth. "Though a bit more, ah, _miss_, than hit, I think."

I was wondering about the time when I would inevitably have to tell Cutler that I _wasn't_ really a journalist. But now did not really seem like that time.

Cutler laughed again. "You're funny, Florence Smith," he said.

"Really?" I said. "Like funny 'weird' or funny 'ha ha'?"

"Oh funny 'ha ha', definitely," said Cutler. "Though being a bit weird's not a bad thing, is it? Our quirks are what makes us unique, aren't they?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking about this. "Yeah I guess they are."

I wondered if being a werewolf or a vampire counted as 'quirks'.

By the time we reached the edge of a wood I didn't even know _existed_, the whole meeting was feeling so casual, so _normal_, that I almost forgot my whole purpose of being there. Cutler stopped just before we entered and turned to face me.

"Now, look," he said, a serious note in his voice now. "What I'm about to show you. It's a bit…it's a bit…well, you'll see."

Intrigued, but also suddenly wary, I followed the vampire into the trees. It was dark in the wood, and a lot colder in the shadows of the trees, away from the heat of the sun. I shivered, but this involuntary shudder was not just due to the sudden drop in temperature. For it had suddenly occurred to me that this would be the ideal set-up for Cutler to attack me. True, he hadn't tried even when we'd been alone together in his flat, but this just seemed typical of an attack; all alone together in this dark, creepy wood.

But the vampire did not seem interested in me in the slightest. He was hurrying confidently through the trees, intent on reaching his destination, while I tripped and stumbled after him. We had been continuing in this manner for a good ten minutes, before Cutler came to an abrupt stop. So abrupt, in fact, that I went crashing into the back of him.

"Whoops, sorry…" I said, staggering backwards. "Hey, what're you-

I stopped dead. For I had just laid eyes upon what Cutler was looking at, and it made even my warm wolf blood run cold. It was the body of a man, or rather, what was _left_ of the body of a man. The corpse-for there was no denying that this poor man_ was_ dead-was lying on its front, with its horribly disfigured face turned on its side so that I was being watched through cold, lifeless eyes. But what was perhaps most horrific about the body were the deep scratches that ran down the back, dark with dried blood, and quite clearly cause by some huge claw.

"Oh my god…" I said, stumbling backward away from the nightmare, away from the _horror_. I had been suddenly reminded of my parents' death; a dreadful scene I had tried my very best to forget. But it was all flooding back to me now. Surrounding me, drowning me; I couldn't think, I couldn't _breathe _-

I turned well away from Cutler and the mutilated body, and vomited spectacularly into a nearby bush.

"Oh, wow, okay," said Cutler, patting my back awkwardly. "Wasn't exactly expecting that…Here," he handed me a monogrammed silk handkerchief from his suit pocket.

"Thanks," I said, weakly. "Look, I'm so sorry…" I indicated my pile of vomit and dabbed at my mouth.

"It's _alright_," said Cutler soothingly. "_I'm_ sorry. I wish I didn't have to show you things like this but, you know…I thought you needed to see for yourself what's…what's happening."

"So you think…you think a…a _werewolf_ did this?" I could feel the bile rising in my throat once more.

Cutler nodded. "Now, I don't wish to jump to any conclusions," he said. "This is all just speculation really. But I think this, together with all the other evidence we've already seen, gives a pretty strong case forward for the existence of werewolves, don't you agree?"

Cutler's eyes were bright as he looked to me for confirmation. I gave a sort of jerk of the head which Cutler evidently interpreted as a nod. He clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"And _if_ these terrible creatures exist," he continued. "Don't you think the world ought to know about them?"

I thought about myself, I thought about Tom. If the world found out about werewolves, we would be ostracised, we would be _hunted_. Did we really deserve that? But then I looked back down at the body on the forest floor, and thought about Finn O'Toole and my parents…Cutler was right; maybe the world really _did_ deserve to know about the dangerous…_monsters_ it was harbouring.

"Yes," I said, quietly. "Yes you're absolutely right."

Cutler nodded gravely. "Now, let's get out of here," he said. "This place really gives me the creeps."

x-x-x

Back out in the sunny streets, and following Cutler's reassurance about the body; "there'll be someone taking care of it", I was beginning to feel much more like myself, and a whole lot better about things, than I had done back in the wood. I tried to set things straight in my head. If people were being attacked here in Barry, then did this mean that there were more werewolves here than I had thought? Unless…I wondered about Tom. He had mentioned briefly about taking his transformations in the woods, but I'd sort of lost largely what he'd been saying on the matter when he'd starting talking enthusiastically about chickens on strings. Could it be possible that _Tom_ was the reason behind this attack? Surely not…though who _knew_ what werewolves could be like once they were transformed? Cutler was right; werewolves were dangerous, and we ought to be exposed. Exposed and despised.

"Do you think this is something you'd be interested in writing up, then?"

Cutler's voice penetrated the long and brooding silence that had fallen between us.

"Hm?" I said, dragging myself from my thoughts.

"The attack," said Cutler as we turned onto another street. "Surely that'd be something you'd be interested in writing up for the newspapers?"

"Oh!" I said, feeling myself buckle slightly under the weight of my disguise. "Well I don't know if I…" I trailed off.

Cutler pressed on regardless. "Because I was thinking, we should just-

His voice suddenly stopped dead, and I had taken only a few steps forward before I realised that he was no longer walking next to me. I doubled back.

Cutler was turned away from the direction we had been walking in, and was cowering slightly at…something.

"Are…are you…alright?" I asked.

The vampire answered in the affirmative, but his voice was oddly constricted, as though it were an effort to get the words out.

"Perhaps we could…sit down?" I suggested. I knew very little first aid, and looked wildly around for a _bench_ or something, just to sit down on.

And then I saw it.

Across the street, on the opposite side to us, was a Methodist church hall; a large crucifix cross emblazoned on the front.

"Of course, the cross…" I breathed.

"What?" said Cutler, squinting up at me.

"Oh!" I cried. "Lacrosse. You know…some lacrosse might do you good."

Cutler stared blankly at me.

"Or not," I said quickly. "Hey!" I cried suddenly, making Cutler jump. "I know a great short cut back to that old B&B. Shall I show you?"

Without waiting for Cutler to answer, I grabbed the vampire's arm, spun him around, and began practically _dragging_ him away from the church hall and into the next street.


	10. Chapter Nine

Over the next two weeks, I underwent a series of changes, resulting in an overall alteration. Not _physically,_ though. Outwardly, I remained the same quiet, awkward person I'd always been; I continued to roam about Honolulu Heights on the cusp of belonging there; talking to Tom, helping Annie and avoiding getting in the way of Hal's strict rota. Outwardly, it would seem, I was the same.

But inside, a raging madness was growing.

Ever since Cutler had shown me the mutilated corpse in the woods, shown me what _horror_ and destruction that werewolves could cause, a hatred for the beasts had formed in my mind and it sat, spreading and growing like a cancer, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was rapidly becoming obsessed with researching and finding out more about alleged werewolf attacks, spending every moment I could using the internet in the library and searching through old newspaper records. Whenever Hal or Tom or Annie asked where I'd been, I would lie and say I'd been out for some fresh air, or popped to the shop. I didn't want them knowing about this rapidly growing…_obsession_.

They wouldn't understand.

The only person, I was quickly leaning, that _did_ seem to understand, was Cutler. The vampire, for whatever reasons of his own that no longer seemed important to me, detested werewolves. I had thought, when I first met him, that Cutler's interest in the werewolves was a positive one; he'd had an enthusiasm for the creatures that had been, though I hadn't thought about it at the time, unusual. But now I realised that his enthusiasm was based solely on exposing werewolves, and it was driven by his hatred of them. It had to be. There could be no other explanation.

It was difficult, at times, to think of werewolves in this way. It was not hard for me to hate myself; I think that self-hatred is something that comes naturally to adolescent females, but it was hard sometimes for me to hate Tom. When we would talk together and laugh together and have fun together, it was difficult to think badly of him. But then I would think about all the hundreds of killings I'd read about, the body in the woods-and my parents' death. For this disturbing memory was frequenting my brain more often than it had ever done before, and it had become a powerful motivation whenever I had these lapses with Tom.

Cutler, too, proved motivation at these times. It seemed whenever I felt sympathy or doubt about werewolves, Cutler would be there; with an article of a story, _feeding_ my ever-mounting madness.

But then, a few days before full moon was due to arrive again, I received a phone call from Cutler; a sense of urgency to his voice.

"Have you written it?" the vampire asked, before I had even said 'hello'.

"Written…what?" I asked, confused.

"The _article_," said Cutler. "The article exposing the public to werewolves!"

"Ah…"

During the weeks following my epiphany in the woods, Cutler had not only been feeding me werewolf evidence, but also encouraging me to write an article exposing werewolves. I had been intentionally uncommitted to this, for the obvious reason that I wasn't _really_ a journalist, and had never actually _agreed_ to write anything. Or, at least, I _thought_ I hadn't. But Cutler seemed to think differently.

"Have you written it, then?" he pressed. "Because I really need, I mean, the _public_ really ought to know about this, don't you think?"

"Well, I, uh…"

Hal had wandered into the living room whilst I was on the phone, clutching a can of polish and a yellow duster. He frowned at my phone.

"Listen, I'll…I'll call you back," I said. I wasn't comfortable anymore talking about my 'business' (as I was fast referring to it as) with Cutler around Hal. It was _my_ affair, not his.

"Who was that?" asked Hal with forced casualness, but the duster clutched tightly in his hand gave away his tenseness.

"Nobody," I said, airily, standing up and making for the door. "Now if you'll just excuse me…"

Hal stepped sideways, blocking my path.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"I could ask _you_ the same question," said Hal. "I _know_ you were just talking to Cutler, so why lie about it? You never normally do."

I said nothing, looking at the floor.

"So, what did he want?"

"It's none of your business," I snapped, suddenly.

Hal looked briefly taken aback, before his expression changed to something far more terrifying; anger.

"Of _course_ it's my business," he said. "Look, whose side are you really on here?"

"_Yours_," I said. "You know, this is what _you _asked me to do. Pretend to be on Cutler's side for _you_."

"Oh really?" Because I'm not so sure how much you're _pretending_ to be on Cutler's side anymore. I think you just _are_ on his side!"

"Well, so what if I am?" I shot back, feeling a rage building inside me. "Perhaps _Cutler's_ not the one who's got things wrong, maybe it's _you_!"

"But he wants to _expose_ werewolves. Expose _you_," said Hal.

"And what's so wrong with that?" I roared. "Maybe…maybe we _deserve_ to get discovered. I've _seen_ what werewolves can do. I've _seen_ the horror they can cause. One of them _killed my parents_ for goodness sake!"

I stopped.

This was the first time I had told anyone about my parents. Hal, Annie and Tom, for whatever reasons of their own, had never asked about my family, and I had been more than happy to keep the information hidden away.

Hal, whose face had been a mask of anger throughout our exchange, now looked at me sadly.

"You never said," he said, gently.

"You never asked," I said, sulkily. I was annoyed. I didn't want sympathy, I wanted revenge!

"Look, Florence…" said Hal, apparently reading my mind. "I'm sorry for what happened to your parents, really I am. But believe me, it had _nothing_ to do with _you_. And…and exposing werewolves isn't going to bring them back!"

Hal's words stung like acid.

"I know it isn't going to bring them _back_," I said, hotly. "But exposing…exposing _us_ as the monsters we truly are will ensure the horrible cards I've been dealt in this life won't be dealt to anyone else!"

"But that's not _your_ decision to make!"

"Well, why not?" I said, but I could feel myself already faltering slightly under Hal's infuriating sense and reasoning. "Why shouldn't it be mine to make? Just because _you're _happy trundling along while monsters rip apart humanity, it doesn't mean everyone else is! Just because you…you _like_ leading this double life!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realised I had said something terrible. Hal's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and he set the duster and polish down on the bar in a manner that suggested business.

"Never," he said, his voice dangerously low. "_Never_ presume to think that I _enjoy_ being what I am. You think I don't know how this feels? You think I don't know what it's like to lose loved ones, to see the innocent savagely taken from this world? You think you're the _only_ one to feel how you feel? That's a very selfish way to think of things."

I had found myself feeling meek and guilty at the beginning of Hal's speech, but the word 'selfish' triggered what anger was left in me once more.

"Selfish?" I repeated. "You think I'm being _selfish_? Being _selfish_, would be hiding away this secret, keeping it to ourselves so that others don't find out the truth about what's out there! It's not selfish to want the innocent public to know what's going on!"

"And did it ever occur to you, Florence," said Hal, speaking loudly. "That the innocent public wouldn't _want_ to know about the horrors that lie out there? Did you not ever think that people were better off _not_ knowing? You see, it's once people start _knowing_ that the problems arise. Look at your parents. Look at you."

"They didn't ask for this," I said, quietly, looking at the floor. I felt the sudden horribly urge to cry. To lay down on the floor and weep.

"I know," said Hal. I looked at him through my hair. He did not look angry any more. Just sad. "No one ever asks for this. You didn't, I didn't, Tom didn't, your parents didn't. But the public aren't asking for it either. Why make them suffer unnecessary fear and suffering? You'd be doing them no favours by bringing them into this world."

There was silence for a moment, broken only by a heavy breathing that may or may not have been my own. I was thinking carefully about Hal's words. For so long, longer probably than I had realised, I had been blinded by Cutler; blinded by _his_ views and _his_ ideas. I had thought that exposing werewolves to the public would be kind to them. But now I could see that Hal was right. Just because _my_ life had been torn apart by supernatural existence, it didn't mean everyone's had to.

Hal seemed to sense my shift in opinion, for he picked the duster and polish back up, and moved into the room and away from the door.

"Anyway, I must get on," he said.

"Wait, Hal," I said, turning around so I was facing the vampire once more. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about…about saying what I said. And about…everything really. I just-

"Don't," interrupted Hal quietly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Don't apologise," said Hal. "Not to me. You don't have anything to apologise to me for."

"But…" I hadn't been expecting this. Hal had looked so angry previously that I had half expected him to throw my apology back in my face. "But…I said all that _rubbish_ about you enjoying being a vampire, which is of course absurd, because nobody would _enjoy_ that, except perhaps Cutler, who seems to get along just fine with it, but that of course is beside the point, and I-

Hal hand up a hand to stem my flow of garbled speech. "You don't need to apologise to me," he said. "After the things I've done, no one need ever apologise to me."

There was something so _tragic_ in Hal's voice, that I was compelled suddenly to give the vampire a hug, something that was absolutely _ridiculous_ because a) I detested bodily contact of most kinds and b) I sensed Hal felt the same. Luckily, I was saved from doing something I would most definitely regret for the rest of my life, by Annie, who had appeared in the living room just in time to hear the end of Hal's speech.

She rolled her eyes. "Please don't start reminiscing," she said. "I've told you before, Hal. I don't _want_ to know what you've done. Can't we all just try and get along and act as a nice, normal family?

Hal went as though to contradict her, but obviously thought better of it, and gave a small, tight-lipped smile, nodding.

Annie returned the smile and nod, and sat down on the sofa, just as we heard Tom come in the door.

"Now," said Annie, brightly. "Let's see what nice, _normal_ family news Tom has brought us?"

Tom came into the room, beaming. "Hey, guess what?" he said. "Mr Cutler's asked me to create a coexistence between vampires and werewolves with him!"

This news brought out a reaction in all of us. Annie groaned with obvious displeasure at the lack of 'normal' news, Hal fumbled with the can of polish before it fell to the floor with a clatter, and I wheeled around to face Tom.

"_What?_" I said, perplexed.

Tom's beam faltered slightly. "I…I thought you'd be pleased," he said, looking around the room at our faces; Annie's annoyed, Hal's shocked and mine confused. "I thought it would be a good thing!"

"You haven't actually _agreed_ to this, have you Tom?" said Hal, nipping across the room so that he was stood closer to the werewolf, a sense of urgency to his voice and movements.

"I…no, I haven't," said Tom, still looking taken aback. "I told Mr Cutler I'd think about it. But he seemed really keen on the idea, and I don't see why you're-

"It must be a trap," muttered Hal, more to himself than to anyone else. "No vampire in their right mind would want a coexistence with werewolves."

"Um," I said, looking around the room at the ghost, vampire and two werewolves stood there and, well _coexisting_. "Isn't what _you're_ doing sort of a coexistence between vampires and werewolves?"

Hal ignored me, still apparently wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Don't do it," he concluded. "It's surely a trap. With the Old Ones coming, god knows when, but _soon_, there's never a time less likely for a vampire to be trying to organise something like that. The Old Ones are very set in their ways; they like tradition. And traditionally, werewolves and vampires do not live comfortably together."

Tom now looked thoroughly depressed. "Fine," he said, sulkily. "I'll guess I'll just tell Mr Cutler 'no'. But he was gonna buy me dinner as well!"

x-x-x

The next day, disaster struck at Honolulu Heights; a disaster discovered by Tom.

"Guys! Hal! Florence! Come quick!"

As quickly as I could (not very, as I'd been splayed on my bedroom floor trying to retrieve a sock from under the bed) I hurried up to the attic, where Eve slept, and where Tom's voice had come from. Hal was already there, perspiring gently, a towel wrapped round his shoulders. One of his press up sessions had evidently been interrupted.

"What's the matter?" I asked, looking from Tom to Hal and back again.

"Annie's gone," said Tom.

"Gone?" I said. "What do you mean, 'gone'? She can't just have left!"

I started stupidly looking wildly about the room, under cushions and behind the door, as though expecting Annie to appear suddenly from them.

"She's gone," echoed Hal.

"But what do you _mean_?" I said. "What, like when Kirby did that…_thing_ to her?"

"No, I don't think so…" said Hal, but he didn't look certain. "But you're sure she didn't leave a…a _note_ or anything?" he turned to Tom, but Tom merely shook his head before turning to lift Eve out of the cot.

"Maybe she…maybe she went out to…to the shops?" I suggested.

"Maybe…" said Hal, hollowly.

But we all knew this could not be the case. Annie wouldn't leave Eve on her own like that.

Later that day, when the shock of Annie's bizarre departure had not settled in at all, and a routine of looking after Eve had barely been established, Hal and Tom sprung some more surprising news on me.

"Wait, what do you _mean_ you've both got _dates_ tonight?" I said as they broke the news to me.

Really, I ought to have known something was up. It was not unusual for Hal to take a shower in the middle of the day and change his clothes, but what _was_ unusual, was for Tom to do the same.

"Yes," said Hal, as though he couldn't quite believe it himself. "Tom and are…are going out."

"Yeah we're taking out two nice girls and all," added Tom, grinning.

I thought that choosing the time when Annie was missing, possibly _dead_ (in a momentary panic, I forgot that Annie was, in fact, already dead, and assumed the worst) to go on _dates_ was one of the worst decisions Hal and Tom had ever had. I tried to point this out to them, but in my shock and confusion I spluttered out instead;

"But…but what am _I_ supposed to?"

Tom shrugged.

"You've got to look after the baby," said Hal, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "With Annie gone we'll need you to babysit."

"Oh really?" I said, still annoyed that they would choose _now_ of all times to go on a date. "Well! What if _I_ had plans, eh? Ha! What about that?"

Hal and Tom looked at each other and then back at me.

"You never have plans," said Tom.

"Oh!" I cried. "I-yes I do! I could have plans for tonight!"

"Well, _do _you?" asked Hal, raising an eyebrow. "You know, have any plans for tonight?"

"I…" I fumbled uselessly around in my head. "Well…no. No I don't."

"Oh, brilliant," said Tom. "You can watch baby Eve then."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Good lord they're here," said Hal, patting down his sleeves awkwardly.

"_What_?" I said, incredulously. "You're bringing them _here_?"

"Only to meet," said Tom innocently. "Then we'll go on to a park or a fairground or a swimming pool or something." He moved to the door as he spoke, pulling it open with gusto. "Good afternoon Allison, would you like to come in?"

Way before I had properly grasped the idea that Tom and Hal were going on _dates_ of all things, I was forced to leap up from the sofa, and plaster what I hoped was a friendly and welcoming smile on my face.

"Hello," I said, loudly, advancing towards Tom and the girl, who wore thick rimmed glasses and had a mass of very curly hair.

"I'm Allison," she said, taking me in a firm handshake. "A-L-L-I-S-O-N."

"O-Oh right!" I said. "How…how interesting. I'm Florence."

The girl finally dropped my hand. "With an F or a PH?" she asked eagerly.

"A…an F," I said, after a moment's hesitation. I was taken aback by her question. "I think. Yes! Yes, definitely an F."

Allison looked almost disappointed.

"Would you like to see the rest of the house?" asked Tom, gesturing widely to the door.

"That would be _fascinating_," said Allison, without an ounce of sarcasm, and followed Tom eagerly from the room.

I sat back down on the sofa, and Hal resumed a stiff position in the arm chair, where we sat in an awkward silence until the doorbell rang again, and Hal leapt up from his chair as if suddenly burnt.

"Hello!" he said, as he opened the door. "I'm so glad that you could make it. I'm delighted. Please, do come in."

Hal returned to the living room, closely followed by a girl a bit older than myself, with short hair and bright eyes.

"Hello," I said, getting up from the sofa and awkwardly thrusting out a hand, remembering Allison's firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Florence."

Uncertainly, the girl took my hand, eyeing me slightly suspiciously. "I'm Alex," she said, and I detected a Scottish accent to her voice. "You…you live here too?"

I nodded.

"You _live_ with Hal?" Her expressive eyebrows were raised extraordinarily high. I suddenly realised what it was she was getting at and so, apparently, did Hal.

"Oh!" he cried. "Yes, but it's nothing like that. There's nothing…you know…"

"There is _nothing_, you know, nothing like…_that_," I laughed awkwardly. "I'm just, you know…

"A lesbian," Hal supplied quickly, at the same time as I said "just a friend".

"I'm a _what?_" I cried. Behind Alex's back, Hal made a desperate face.

"Ah, yes," I said slowly, as Alex looked at me like I was completely barmy. "I am a lesbian. Yep. Lesbian and _proud_. Hal, you know, he just doesn't _do_ it for me, you, uh, you get me?"

Alex didn't say anything, but her eyebrows continued to rise until they had practically disappeared into her choppy fringe.

Luckily, before I could embarrass myself further (I had been contemplating giving Alex a 'friendly' punch on the shoulder) Allison and Tom reappeared in the living room.

"Hello," said Tom, and appropriate introductions and name spellings were given while I hovered awkwardly in the background.

Eventually, however, it seemed the four of them were off.

"Have a nice time," I said, feeling absurdly like some sort of parent seeing off a child. "And don't do anything…stupid," I added in a low voice to Hal. I had only just realised how potentially dangerous it was to let Hal out in this way; I had seen the destruction that werewolves could cause and vampires were equally dangerous.

Alex looked suspiciously at my whispered words to Hal, so I made sure I lingered awkwardly close to Allison as she passed through the front door, just to keep her pretences.

When they were finally gone, I flopped gratefully down onto the saggy sofa, thoroughly exhausted at the amount of social interaction I'd been forced into at such short notice. It was then that I heard a shrill cry from upstairs, and remembered about baby Eve. Upstairs, Eve was bright red and screaming. After a few moments deliberation, I brought the screaming bundle out of the cot and into my arms, where I rocked her awkwardly.

"Shh, shh," I said, in what I hoped was a gentle, calming way. Eve screamed louder.

"Hey, hey!" I called, walking towards the door. "Let's go and see what's downstairs, shall we?" Eve's cries subsided slightly. "Yes," I said, making my way down the stairs carefully. "I'm sure there's _lots_ of interesting things downstairs…"

I kept up a breathless monologue the whole way down, and by the time I was once again on the sofa, Eve seemed quite content lying out on my legs, looking up at the room interestedly and, more importantly, quietly. I breathed a sigh of relief and wished, not for the first time, that Annie was here. A loud ringing from my pocket interrupted a moment of what had bordered on peace between me and Eve. She started crying immediately at the sound.

"No, no, shh," I said, instinctively pressing a finger to her mouth to stem the flow of sound. This worked, though not entirely as I had planned. Eve's mouth found my finger and her cries subsided as she sucked away at it.

Now, one hand redundant, I removed the phone from my pocket with difficulty and answered it.

"Hello?" I said, though there was no doubt in my mind who was ringing.

"Hiya," Cutler's voice trilled down the phone. "I know you said yesterday that _you_ would call _me_, but I could just really do with meeting up, so are you free now?"

"I, uh…" Eve was wriggling now in my lap, and I struggled to keep her still. "No…uh, I'm sorry. I'm busy at the moment."

"Busy doing what?" There was an accusatory tone to Cutler's voice, and I suspected that he, like Hal and Tom, assumed I had very little of a life.

"I'm…" I searched my brain wildly for an excuse, before realising that I didn't need one. "I'm babysitting," I said, simply.

"_Babysitting_?" Cutler sounded incredulous.

"Yes," I said. "I'm sitting on…No wait, never mind. I'm looking after a baby."

"Whose baby?" Cutler all-but demanded.

"A…friend's. A friend's baby,"

"Right," Cutler still sounded slightly put out. "Right, well I only wanted to discuss this article thing with you…"

This was it. It was time to come clean. I was going to tell Cutler there and then that I wasn't a journalist. That it was all a hoax. That I'd been living a lie.

"Look, Cutler," I interrupted. I could almost feel Cutler's surprise at my interruption through the phone. "I'm sorry," I said. "But I can't…I can't write the article. I can't do it because-

"That's alright," came Cutler's reply, so sudden that he stopped me speaking altogether.

"I-_what_?" I'd thought that Cutler would be disappointed, _angry_ even that I wasn't doing it. But his voice was coming down the telephone now calm and gentle.

"It's ok," he said. "I know why you won't do it and, hey, I respect you for that."

"I…you do?" I said, confused.

"Yep," said Cutler. "You want to protect the public from something that's been staring them in the face for centuries. Hey, I may not agree with you, but I can see where you're coming from. And about the article? Forget it. I've got another, I _mean,_" Cutler hurried corrected himself. "There's no need to rush into these things if you don't want to, right?"

"Uh…Right!" I said, still not quite able to believe what was happening.

"Now listen, I don't want you to feel bad about this," continued Cutler, taking it for granted that I was now consumed with guilt, when actually, all I felt was relief. "Because they'll be plenty of time for you to do your bit after…Well, _later_, you know?"

I agreed enthusiastically.

"Right," said Cutler, as my finger slipped out of Eve's mouth and the baby let out a wail. "I can tell you're busy, so I'll let you get on. Maybe I'll call you next week or something? Let's just…let's just see how the next few days go, alright?"

"Alright," I said.

As I put down the phone, it occurred to me how _cheerful_ Cutler had sounded on the phone, compared to the agitated conversation we'd had the previous day. He was obviously very pleased about…something, and I wondered what it was that could have happened to bring about this glee.

And then I remembered Tom, and the so-called 'coexistence' between vampires and werewolves that Cutler had asked him to be part of. Could this be the reason for Cutler's calm understanding and cheerful disposition?

But Tom had told Cutler that he wouldn't do such a thing, hadn't he? Or had Tom, for some unknown reason, neglected to tell the vampire 'no', and Cutler was absurdly happy because his plans, whatever they were, were finally falling into place? What if the only reason Cutler had been so understanding on the phone, was because he simply didn't _need_ me anymore? Didn't _need_ me to play a part in his schemes anymore. If he believed he now had Tom on his side, then this would make sense.

As Eve let out another scream, I made a mental note to interrogate Tom the minute he got in from his date.


	11. Chapter Ten

Later that afternoon, with Eve finally asleep in her carry cot on the sofa, the front door opened and shut with a bang and I sprung up, fully ready to interrogate Tom about Cutler. Except, as I spun around to face the door, I saw Hal enter; and he was alone.

"Oh," I said, slightly disappointed. I had been planning a dramatic interrogation. "Where's Tom?"

But Hal did not answer me. He did not even seem to have _heard_ me as he moved further into the room in an almost ghost-like manner, and sat blankly down in the armchair.

"Hal?" I said, tentatively. "Are you…okay?"

A sudden chill swept over me. "Oh god," I said, clapping a hand to my mouth. "You didn't, you know…you didn't," I dropped my voice. "_Kill_ her, did you?"

This seemed to finally rouse a reaction from Hal. His head snapped up and he glared at me.

"No of course I didn't _kill_ her," he spat. "I've been dry for over fifty years, you think I would fall as the first hint of temptation?"

"I-No, of course not," I said, quickly. "So then…What happened?"

Hal swallowed visibly, and clenched and unclenched his hands before answering.

"I panicked," he said. A muscle was twitching in his cheek. "She…She leant in towards me, and she was so close I could _smell_ her and I…I panicked."

Hal swallowed again and closed his eyes. I stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"But you…but you didn't actually…_do_ anything, did you? So that must count for something, mustn't it?"

Hal opened his eyes and gave a thin smile. "The only reason I didn't actually _do_ anything," he said. "Was because I ran away before I could get the chance. I just _ran_ away."

I didn't know what to say or do that would make Hal feel better. I started several sympathetic sentences, none of them really appropriate, before stuttering myself into silence. We were sat in this awkward manner for quite some time, before Hal glanced around the room, giving a double take at the door just behind my left shoulder.

"Shit!" he cried. "_Annie!_"

I wheeled around. Annie was stood eerily by the door, staring down at Eve on the sofa. At the sudden shock of seeing her, I screamed and leapt back, falling over one of Tom's discarded trainers and tumbling to the floor. No one seemed to notice though.

Hal sprung up from the armchair and crossed the room in two large strides to get to Annie.

"Oh my god, _Annie_," he said. "Where have you _been_? What have you been _doing_?"

Annie finally took her eyes off Eve, but took her time replying.

"I have seen the future," she said, hollowly. "I have seen the future and it is dark."

"Dark?" I said from the floor. "What do you mean, 'dark'?"

Annie turned to me. "The Old Ones are coming," she said. "And bringing with them the end of the world."

The horrible silence that followed this was broken by the sound of a key in the front door, and of Tom coming in.

"But how do you _know_ all this?" pressed Hal, seeming not to hear Tom come in. "And _where_ did you go?"

"Eve came," said Annie, returning her gaze once more to the baby. "She came and took me to the future. To show me the end."

"Baby Eve took you to the future?" Tom had entered the living room in time to hear Annie's words. "But that's crackers!"

"Tom," I said suddenly, remembering my plans for a dramatic interrogation. Though whether the moment really required further drama following Annie's sudden reappearance, I wasn't sure. "Did you tell Cutler that you weren't going to join his coexistence…thing?"

"Eh?" Tom looked blankly at me.

"Did you, or did you not, refuse Cutler's offer, like we told you to?"

Tom now looked shiftily to the side. "Well…" he said. "I haven't exactly said 'no' yet…"

"Tom!" cried Hal exasperatedly. "Why not?"

"I didn't want to!" said Tom. "I didn't want to say I wouldn't do it when he asked so nicely and all!"

Hal groaned.

"The Old Ones are coming," repeated Annie. "We're all going to have to do things we don't want to do."

There was a silence following Annie's sombre words. She had looked directly at baby Eve as she'd said them, and I wondered, not for the first time, _where_ exactly Annie had been for the past day.

"How did you know?" Hal's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Huh?" I asked, vaguely.

"What made you think that Tom hadn't refused Cutler yet?" the vampire repeated, looking at me intently.

"I…he rang," I said, sighing. "Cutler rang me earlier to ask about this article thing I was supposed to write that exposed werewolves to the public-

"_What_?" interrupted Tom, sounding incredulous.

"But I told him I wouldn't do it!" I continued quickly. "It would have been difficult, you know, what with me _not_ actually being a journalist and all. But Cutler didn't seem to mind; he seemed happy, cheerful. Almost _pleased_ about…something. I just thought about Tom and put two and two together." I shrugged.

Hal groaned again. "This is _terrible_ news," he said. "Tom, you must go and telephone Cutler _right _now and tell him that you'll not be a part of his plans, understand? And make it perfectly clear that you are set in your mind, alright?"

Tom nodded glumly, and disappeared into the hallway where we could hear him picking up the receiver to make a phone call.

Annie, Hal and I sat in a silence penetrated only by Tom's dulcet tones from the hallway; words not quite distinguishable with the door half closed. A few moments later, we heard Tom hang up the phone, and the werewolf then reappeared in the living room, looking solemn.

"I don't think he's very happy," said Tom, slumping against the arm of Hal's armchair.

"No, I'll bet he's not," said Hal through slightly gritted teeth. "I'll bet he's spend ages cooking up some crack pot plan to impress the Old Ones, and now it's gone wrong, there's no knowing _what_ he'll do to try and fix things!" Hal stood up suddenly, clearly agitated.

"Hal, sit down. What's wrong?" said Annie, frowning with concern up at the vampire.

Hal closed his eyes, frowning as he rubbed his temples.

"I'm going out," he said suddenly. "I need to…I'm going out." He turned abruptly and headed for the door.

"Hang on," said Tom. "You can't leave now! Mr Cutler says the Old Ones are coming tomorrow so we need to make a plan."

Hal paused on his journey to the front door, but did not turn around as he clenched and unclenched his fists, before proceeding without another word. We heard the front door shut with a bang. Baby Eve let out a wail.

"Oh!" cried Annie exasperatedly, lifting up Eve and standing. "_That_," she gestured wildly to the front door. "is great. It's just great! How is that helpful!?" She yelled, rocking Eve in a manner that bordered on aggression, before storming out of the living room and up the stairs.

"Right, I'm going to bed as well," said Tom, straightening up. "I'm knackered."

"Hang on," I said, hurriedly. "What about the Old Ones? Shouldn't we think about what to do with _them_?"

Tom shrugged. "Not much point without Hal or Annie, is there?"

This was true, I thought as Tom also left the room and disappeared up stairs. I couldn't see what _possible_ plan we could come up with, even _with_ Hal and Annie, but it seemed a much better idea to wait until morning, when they would both be around, and try to formulate some sort of defence against the Old Ones.

And hey, I thought as I settled back down on the sofa, feeling my body succumb to sleep, maybe everything would make more sense in the morning anyway.

x-x-x

When I awoke the next morning, it took me a few disorientated moments before I remembered where I was, and why I wasn't waking up in my bedroom as normal. But eventually, blinking against a pale sunlight that was trickling in through a gap in the curtains onto my face, I remembered all about the previous night's events and, more importantly, the news of today's events. The Old Ones were coming, and I had absolutely no idea what we could _possibly_ do about it.

I wriggled over on the sofa and, as I did, I became aware of a vibrating coming from my pocket, which was no doubt what had awoken me in the first place. I pulled out the vibrating phone, which was alerting me that I had two missed messages from Cutler. The first read;

_MEET ME THE DOCKS ASAP. _

And the second;

_PLEASE IT'S URGENT._

There were no common places, or emoticons, and this dramatic alteration in Cutler's temperament, I thought then, must be because of Tom's refusal. It was the only thing that made sense. Cutler before had been laid back, relaxed, and cheerful. Cutler now sounded panicky and slightly desperate. I peered down at the bright screen; the clock read 7.30am. It was far too early to contemplate going to visit Cutler, and yet…the messages had been sent over an hour ago, which meant, whatever it was Cutler wanted, he wanted it urgently.

And so, before I had even seen movement from anyone else in the house, I was showered and changed, smelling strongly of perfume and looking partially acceptable, and was making my way down the street towards the city's docks. Though it was barely 9am, the sun was bright in the sky, its warmth fighting off the chilly morning mist that all but vanished by the time I'd reached the end of the street. I was planning to meet with Cutler, listen to whatever he had to say, come clean about not being a journalist, and make it home in time for breakfast, over which we could hopefully put together some plan for the Old Ones. I had decided that there was no point lying to Cutler _any_ more. The Old Ones were descending imminently; my double life, it seemed, could finally be put to an end. Though the fact that I was a werewolf was something I was still going to keep to myself. Cutler may find room in his heart to forgive me lying about being a journalist, but being a _werewolf_? That was something I would be unlikely to get away with.

I saw Cutler before he saw me. As I rounded the corner at the docks, I spotted a familiar suited figure stood pensively by the railings that looked out onto the water, where dozens of small boats were moored, twinkling waves lapping up against their sides. Though it was early in the day, Cutler was still dressed in his smart solicitor suit and tie, but I noticed as I got closer that the vampire's usual collective demeanour that came with his crisp suit, was drastically absent.

Cutler was tapping his fingers on the metal bars of the railings, and one of his shiny leather shoes was making a similar tapping motion against the concrete. He looked around agitatedly as I got closer, looking twitchy and even paler than usual.

"Hello…" I began to say, but before I could really finish my greeting, the vampire had gripped my arm in a vice-like grip and he hissed;

"I need you to write this article, and I need you to write it _now_."

I pulled my arm out of Cutler's grip, which took surprisingly little effort. The vampire's grip seemed to have loosed dramatically all of a sudden. He looked at his watch, and then nervously around the docks. I followed his gaze, feeling suddenly apprehensive.

"Look, I…" Cutler's eyes snapped back to mine immediately. They were wide and unblinking.

"I've got something to tell you," I said, sighing and looking away. "I'm…I'm not…I'm not really a journalist."

I thought that these words would bring something dramatic, something spectacular. But it did not. Instead, all it brought was a deafening silence, so heavy I could almost _feel _it pressing in around us.

"You're _what_?" said Cutler, eventually.

"I'm not a journalist," I repeated. "I can't write the article because I'm not a journalist!"

Cutler looked at me tragically. "_What_?" he said, hoarsely. "So then…who the hell are you?" Cutler's voice rose aggressively. "What the hell do you want? What have you been _snooping_ around for?"

"I…" I looked into the vampire's face, and felt compelled suddenly to speak of something I'd barely spoken of since it happened. "I was fourteen," I said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I was fourteen, and…and my parents were attacked by a werewolf. It…it changed my life forever and…and that's why I was interested in exposing werewolves. I'm sorry I lied about being a journalist, but I…I felt I had no choice."

I paused, feeling strangely calm. It was as if a great weight of secrecy had been lifted from me, though obviously I was still harbouring the fact that I was a werewolf, but it felt good to have come clean about _something_. However I wasn't sure Cutler would feel the same way. But when I turned to look at the vampire, he was surveying me, not with anger anymore, but with something altogether differently.

"Your parents," he said. "They're dead?"

I nodded, and then, I didn't even know what was happening, but Cutler had placed his lips to mine, and was kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, and it was all so sudden…

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Cutler pulled himself away from me and spat harshly on the floor. I slowly touched where his lips had touched mine…

"You're a werewolf? _You're _a _fucking_ werewolf?" he spat on the floor again.

His words registered suddenly in my head. After things had been going so well! I thought I'd gotten away with everything. But now the game was up; the mask was off.

"So?" I cried, in an attempt to act indignant. "_You're _a vampire. How is that any different?"

"Oh, _I_ don't know," said Cutler, sarcastically. "Maybe because I haven't been sneaking around, _pretending_ to be human!"

"Excuse _me,_" I protested. "But isn't your entire _existence_ 'pretending to be human'?"

Cutler looked as though he was going to say something in retaliation, but he held his tongue. "How did you keep this from me anyway?" he asked instead. "Unless…"

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close into him, and for one, wild moment, I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he instead inhaled deeply at my neck, before pulling away, rubbing his nose. He fixed me with a stare.

"How do _you_ know Hal Yorke?"

Whatever it was I had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been this. I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Cutler was stood close to me again; too close; intimidating. "Only _Hal Yorke_ knows about my human allergies to perfume. Only _Hal Yorke_ knows that I can't smell other vampires or…or _werewolves_ if they're wearing a certain perfume. Now, either you have a very coincidental choice in your fragrances, or you've been speaking to my maker."

"I…Wait, _what_ did you say? Your _maker_? _Hal_ made you into a vampire?"

But there wasn't time to discuss the matter any further, for, at that moment, a loud yell cut through the air.

"OI!" came the yell, its tone vaguely familiar to me. "OI CUTLER!"

"Oh god," said Cutler, the intimidating anger melting away and being replaced with what resembled _fear_. "This could mean trouble."

I acted instinctively, pulling myself and Cutler behind a set of wheelie bins and out of sight of the approaching figure, who seemed to be the source of the yell. I grazed my arm on the concrete as we fell, together, into hiding, and a thin line of blood trickled out. Cutler froze, staring transfixed at the red liquid.

"Don't…" I said. "Remember, werewolf blood's toxic to you."

Cutler snapped out of his trance. "I know, I know," he said, gruffly. "Their saliva's no bloody picnic either." He indicated his lips, which were red and sore-looking. I felt briefly apologetic, but before I could apologise or anything, the voice of the man was heard again.

"Come out, come out, _Cutler_" it snarled. "We want to see what you've brought us!"

I stole a glance behind the wheelie bins, and saw three figures making their way towards us. I was surprised, and then horrified, that I recognised one of them. It was Fergus; the vampire from the bar. But if these were more vampires…then this meant trouble.

Cutler ran a hand through his hair, looking fearful again.

"What do they want?" I whispered.

Cutler turned to look at me then; his eyes bright, as though seeing me for the first time.

"Wait," he said. "_You're_ a werewolf?"

"I think that's already been established," I said, drily. "Look, if you want me to apologise or something…"

"No, no. Just…" Cutler looked at something past my left shoulder. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, pointing.

I turned to look, and, as I did, I felt a dull thud of pain on the back of my head, and everything went black.

x-x-x

When I was next aware of anything at all, everything was still very dark, and my head ached as though I had collided heavily with a brick wall. My face was pressed against something smooth and cold, and when I moved my eyes around to grasp more of my surroundings, I realised it was because I was lying, face down, on a stone floor. I sat up.

Through my hazy eyes, I noticed, and felt panic rise considerably inside me as I did so, that I appeared to be in some sort of cell. There were bars on one side, and the whole things was dimly lit by a lamp in the corner. I looked wildly about for some sort of escape, whilst simultaneously wondering what on _earth_ had happened. I had been with Cutler; that much I was sure of. And then…and then…I didn't know.

Unsuccessful in finding out _how_ I had got wherever I was, I set about looking instead for a way to get _out_. But this was equally unsuccessful. Losing my senses slightly, I banged loudly on the bars of the cell.

"Let me out!" I cried. "Let me _out_!"

"Simmer down, hound," came a snarling voice, and the figure of a man came into view in the dimly lit passage. By the lights of the flickering lamp, I recognised the figure as Fergus, the vampire.

"Hound?" I repeated, insulted. "Bit rich, isn't it? Coming from a blood sucker like you-

The vampire came threateningly up to the cell bars, bearing down on me and cutting my seemingly confident words short. I recoiled slightly.

"You should watch your tongue you _dog_," he said. "Or I'll tear out your throat and-

"And drink my toxic blood?" I said, remembering this fact. "Go ahead. Sounds like a great plan if you ask me! Or, you could tell me what on earth is going on?"

Fergus grinned nastily, apparently unperturbed by the fact that he couldn't drink my blood. "The Old One's are here," he said, menacingly.

I felt my blood run cold. So it was finally done. They had finally descended upon us.

"Where's Cutler?" I demanded, suddenly.

"Who?"

"_Cut_ler," I repeated, through slightly gritted teeth.

"You mean that pathetic excuse for a vampire? Yeah, he's around. Though, with the Old One's back, that might not be the case for much longer…"

"What do you mean?" I said, my voice rising considerably in what felt like panic.

Fergus grinned again, and I could tell that the vampire was enjoying this exchange. "Well, let's just say that you're not the greatest welcoming gift that the Old One's have ever received, and, seeing as Cutler will be the one presenting you to them-

"Wait," I cut across Fergus' words. "What are you talking about; a 'welcoming gift'? And why would Cutler be _presenting_ me?"

The horrible smile faltered slightly on Fergus' face. "But…" he said. "Cutler _brought_ you here. You're _his_ gift offering."

I felt suddenly sick. "But…" my mouth was very dry. "But what would the Old One's want with a…a _werewolf_?"

The horrible grin was back. "You'll see."

"Oh no she bloody well won't!"

This sudden outcry from behind the vampire was followed by an almighty crash as the massive vampire found himself flung against the stone wall and onto the floor. I turned to look at my saviour, and was surprised to see that it was none other than-

"_Tom!_" I cried. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Rescuing you of course!" said Tom with a grin, holding up some stakes.

"But…why? _How_?" I couldn't fathom how Tom had known where to find me.

"Look, it's a long story," said Tom. "But a lot has happened since you sneaked off on a date with Mr Cutler this morning!"

"It was _not_ a date," I said. "But go on."

"Well," said Tom, taking a deep breath. "Basically, last night, Hal went out. He came here, actually, to the docks, and I think he wanted to meet with Cutler. Maybe to reason with him or something or find out more about his plans, but everything went wrong and Hal drank some blood, which turned him a bit mad and creepy."

I let in a sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah, I know," said Tom. "But that's not the worst part. After he'd met Cutler, he went on to meet Alex-

"Who's Alex?" I asked.

"You know Alex!" said Tom, sounding shocked. "That girl he went on a date with!"

"Oh right, yeah…" I said. "Sorry. I swear she was called something else! Oh well, go on."

"Well anyway, he went on to meet her, but Cutler had him followed, and then ended up _killing_ Alex, and making Hal drink her blood, which turned him even _more_ mad and creepy."

"Wow…" I said, but Tom was still not finished.

"Yeah but the best is still to come!" he said. "_Alex_ then came back as a ghost, isn't that crazy? So she managed to get herself and Hal out of a locked room-oh, did I mention that Cutler had locked them in a room?"

I shook my head, trying and failing to digest properly what Tom was saying while equally trying to figure out how _long_ I must have been knocked out for.

"Well, he did," continued Tom. "But then they both came back to the house, and I was dead glad they did, because Annie was proper scaring me. She was saying she'd been to the afterlife, like, and that she had to kill baby Eve to save the world! But Hal tried to reason with her, and then _I_ said it was weird that you'd been gone so long, etc, etc. And then Hal sprung up and swore a bit and paced a bit, and then said that Cutler had told him he'd found out you were a werewolf and that he was gonna give you to the Old Ones as a gift to the Old One's! He was _going_ to do this master plan apparently, that involved me attacking a load of people and getting it on the news and stuff, but that backfired when I said I wouldn't do it. So when he found out you were a werewolf-how did that happen by the way? Dead weird,"

Tom didn't stop for a reply, for which I was relieved. I was remembering, suddenly, the kiss I'd exchanged with Cutler on the docks…

"Anyway, Hal got a bit weird about coming to rescue you, because he's worried he might hook up with the Old One's again. I've dragged him along though. I left Alex at home with Annie and Eve. I'm dead worried about Annie at the moment. All that baby Eve and the future stuff...But hey, did I mention we made a bomb?"

I blinked. "I…what-_no?_" I stared incredulously at Tom. "What…you just _casually_ made a bomb?"

"Yeah," said Tom, grinning. "Well I always had the ingredients to make one, so this seemed like the perfect time to do it! Come on, let's get you out of that cell and find the others-then we can move on to the next part of the plan!"

"Which is?" I asked, almost reluctantly, as Tom busted the bars on the cell open so I could climb out into the passage.

"To blow up the Old One's of course!"

We hurried up the passage, Tom leading the way; a stake raised in his hand. As we neared what appeared to be the end, I could hear voices coming from a nearby room; their words raised but indistinguishable. Tom led us over to the door of the room, which was slightly ajar. Gently, Tom nudged it open with his foot, and we laid eyes upon the scene inside.

Around twenty figures occupied the room, which was lit only by flickering torch brackets that adorned the stone walls, giving an eerie glow to the figures' pallid faces. Everyone was stood very still, very solid, facing the front where, perched on an almost throne-like chair, was a sinister looking man with dark eyes and a menacing expression. The smell of vampire was almost unbearable, but what was strangest about the scene, were the people stood directly in the middle of the room.

Hal, stood looking desperately round at the situation, Alex, stood next to him looking confused, and Annie. Annie, stood in the centre of the floor, carrying baby Eve in one hand and a bizarre-looking contraption in the other.

"Hal is _not_ alive," she was saying, to whom I wasn't sure. "Hal _isn't_ a living thing."

"What's she talking about?" I whispered to Tom, utterly perplexed as to what was going on, but then Alex grabbed Hal's arm and they both disappeared from sight and I worked out exactly _what_ the strange looking contraption in Annie's other hand was and what she was about to do with it. As, apparently, did Tom, for he burst into the room.

"Annie, no!" he cried.

But a huge man suddenly grabbed at Tom with one hand, and me with another, and pulled us out of a side door and into the bright, cold outside.

"No!" yelled Tom, struggling against the man. "No! ANNIE!"

A huge explosion was suddenly taking place right behind us. The sheer force of it was enough to blast the large man, Tom and I into the air and propel us several yards where we landed, hard, on the ground with a thud, while a deafening blast echoed all round.

Slowly, I lifted my head from the ground, and laid eyes upon the scene of utter devastation in front of us. The entire building attached to the docks was gone; leaving behind only some burning rubble. Tom, next to me, was sobbing and punching the ground, and punching the huge man who took the punches like they were soft touches. I looked around. Hal and Alex came into view out of the smoke.

"Why would she do that?" said Hal, hollowly, staring at the flaming docks. "Why would she do that?"

"She knew she had to," said Alex gently. "She told me. She knew what she had to do."

There was silence now, save for Tom's sobs. I couldn't cry. I couldn't even _think_. I was numb.

But then came a yell from a little way off, and I sprung up from the ground, quickly making my way toward it, Hal right behind me. Though I knew it was not possible, a huge part of me wanted it so much to be Annie. For Annie to be stood there, with Eve, dishevelled, injured perhaps, but _alive_. And we could all go back to Honolulu Heights together and wash the ash off our clothes and the blood from our hands.

But I knew in my heart that this was not going to happen.

The source of the yell was, in fact, _Cutler_. He was engaged in some sort of fight with Fergus, who had somehow recovered from Tom's blow, though his face was assuredly bruised. However, as Cutler aimed another punch, I decided that the bruising may not have been caused entirely by Tom.

"You little _shit_!" cried Fergus. "You worthless piece of _shit_! Look what you've done! Look what you've _done_!"

Hal stumbled onto the scene behind me.

"Stop it!" he cried, holding up his hands.

The two brawling vampires looked up at him in surprise.

"You're not dead," said Fergus, looking blank.

Cutler said nothing, but his eyes slid between Hal and me, and then back to Hal again.

"Here, catch!" came the voice of Tom, and I suddenly found a wooden stake hurtling towards me. I made to grab at it, but it tumbled out of my fingers, and onto the floor right in front of Fergus. The vampire reached down and grabbed it in one swift movement, placing the wooden weapon onto Cutler's chest.

"Right," he said, snarling. "I'm gonna make sure people forget your name for the last time…"

Without stopping to _think_, I did the only thing I could think of. I bit down as hard as I could on the veins in my wrist, while simultaneously throwing myself at Fergus. A combination of shock and my force was enough to pull the vampire to the ground. The wooden stake rolled away uselessly. And then, before I could give it another thought, I thrust my wrist into the vampire's mouth, forcing my toxic blood; now trickling down my arm from my bite marks, down his throat. The effect was almost instantaneous. Fergus's body struggled, then stiffened, then vanished altogether.

I straightened up. Everyone was now present at the scene; Hal, Tom, Alex-and Cutler. The huge man who had brought Tom and me out of the docks was nowhere to be seen. In the strange hollowness that followed over the next few moments, I don't think anyone was quite sure what was going to happen next. It's all well and good having life deal you your cards in life, but what you do with those cards is a different decision altogether.

Eventually, following a suggestion from Hal, who, by deviation of responsibility, assumed a sort of leadership responsibility, we all headed back to Honolulu Heights, which felt strangely welcoming while at the same time melancholy.

Eve's carry cot was still propped up on the sofa.

I hovered awkwardly by the front door, not wishing to intrude upon Hal and Tom's obvious grief. Cutler, it seemed, had no such qualms, and strode confidently into the living room, pushing his hands into his pockets and looking around.

"Nice place you've got here," he said.

Alex rolled her eyes. I found myself almost, _almost_ wondering whether I should have allowed Fergus to stake him after all.

But at least Cutler's ill-timed comment relieves some of the overbearing atmosphere that had descended ever since we'd left the docks.

Alex rolled her expressive eyes once more and wandered over to me.

"So," she said. "Hal tells me you're a werewolf?"

I cleared my throat. "Ha…yeah." The whole situation was so _bizarre_ it was almost laughable. Almost.

"So I'm guessing you're not _actually_ a lesbian as well then?"

I'd forgotten this. I smiled weakly. "No," I said. "Not a lesbian-a werewolf, but not a lesbian."

"Well," said Alex. "That's not so bad, is it?"

I looked around the room; at Hal sat on the sofa, twiddling with the television remote; no doubt trying to create some sort of distraction, at Tom sat beside him, clutching one of Eve's bibs but smiling through his tears at it, and finally at Cutler, who gave me an almost shy grin from across the room. I smiled apprehensively back.

"No," I said. "No it's not bad at all."

THE END.

**author's note: well, there it is. All finished! I can't believe I've finally reached the end of this, but I am so, so, so grateful to everyone that's read, reviewed and enjoyed this story. I do hope you liked the ending, sorry for it being a bit rushed! But I was just really keen to get down all my ideas. Thank you again for all the support. **


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